Deja Vu....

Hmmm, seem to have been here before. Killing time in Malaysia waiting for an Indonesian visa. It's as if the Indonesians really don't want anyone to visit their country. It's fine if you just want to stay 30 days, you can buy one of them on the border. But we want to spend longer than that so have had to come to Panang especially to get one, because this is the only place that will still issue a 60 day visa. We hope. At the moment our passports are in the possession of the winner of this years Indonesian Jobsworths award and he doesn't like me. Not a good situation. Immigration officals are a law unto themselves and I've got a sneaking suspicion that this one is going to take perverse pleasure in denying my application, probably for something like having the wrong background colour on my photo or folding my form the wrong way. At 4 o'clock today I'll find out. Can't wait.

In the meantime Emma and I are struggling to stay positive about 4 days in a city we really didn't want to spend 5 minutes in. It's actually not that bad a place, much nicer than Kuala Lumpur, and if we were good tourists there's loads of museums/temples to visit. Not that we're not good tourists, but we are both a bit over temples and museums have never really been my thing. In fact we worked out that the last time either of us went deliberately 'sightseeing' was in the Philippines in May. Instead we've written a long list of all the different types of food we want to eat while we're here and are steadily working our way through it. My stomach is rumbling in anticipation of the sushi that's lined up for lunch.

So what else has been going on? Well, Sumatra was amazing. We went to the little island of Pulah Weh which is off the coast of Bandah Aceh. It's only just been opened up to tourism again following the civil war and the tsunami, and we were minor celebraties for being among the first non-NGO westerners to visit. Bandah Aceh was pretty horrific to travel through - it never stood a chance. It's the flattest city I've ever seen and the tsunami has wiped out everything within about 2 kms of the coast. The whole area is now a desert of concrete rubble, with a few wooden shacks built on top. So sad and very eerie. Pulah Weh itself wasn't hit quite as bad, but most businesses on the beach we stayed were lost. The diveshop building survived but the dutch couple who have run it for 10 years lost pretty much everything inside. This is on top of living under marshall law for years which prevented tourists from coming. If it was me, I'd have given up years ago, but they were amazingly positive and had that incredibly dry dutch sense of humour about it all. Hopefully more and more tourists will make it up there now - we've made it our mission to sell Pulah Weh to everyone we meet.

The diving there was probably the best I've ever done. Really strong currents from the Indian ocean hitting its first landmass mean a huge amount of marine life and the coral was just beautiful. 10 dives just wasn't enough and I can definitely see myself heading back there in the future. Instead, for now, we're off (visa allowing) to the Gili Islands, just east of Bali. It's where I went on holiday last year (after which I finally decided to pack it all in and make this trip), and it's also where Emma and I first met, so holds a special place in my heart. Emma's going to do her divemaster and the dive shop have said they should be able to give me some work so we'll probably be there for 2 months or so. I'm really looking forward to settling somewhere again - the last 6 weeks have been great but being somewhere for more than a week is so much nicer than always moving and having to readjust to a new place every few days.

For those of you who've been fretting about the state of my liver (ok, so it's really only my family, everyone else knows it can take it), you'll be pleased to hear that beer is far too expensive for poor travellers like me in Sumatra and Malaysia so it's had a good chance to recover. We did have one evening in what was actually, for Asia, a pretty perfect copy of an English pub, treating ourselves to steak and pints after a week of rice and noodles on Pulah Weh. Boldly ordering my 4th pint, I realised how out of practice I was when I stood up to use the loo. I had to sit down and give myself a bit of a talking to before making the jouney across the bar.

Right, off to the consulate. Fingers crossed.

Quick update...

I'm never really sure where this blog's heading but am increasingly aware that I haven't written anything about what I've been up to since leaving the Philippines. So here we go on a breakneck tour through the last month.

Arriving back in Bangkok wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be - yes it was strange to see so many other tourists, but it felt familiar enough to be quite comforting in a way. Anyway, I knew I was heading straight out so could cope with anything. An overnight bus and early ferry got me to Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand where I'd arranged to meet an Israeli friend, Yogi, who Emma and I had bumped into loads of times in the Philippines. Israelis generally have quite a bad reputation on the 'travelling circuit', for being loud, unfriendly, rude, arrogant etc. While this maybe true of some Israelis, it's certainly also true of Brits, Germans, Irish, Australians and pretty much any other nation, particularly when they get together in large groups. And as with any other nation there are Israelis who don't want to hang out with other Israelis, and sometimes go out of their way to avoid them. Yogi's one of these, and that's one of the reasons I like him so much. We bonded in our desire to not hangout with our fellow countrymen all the time.

Koh Phanang was a bit of a shock. I'd last been there in 1993 and had a vague memory of what it was like, but wasn't prepared for the full scale development that had happened. This place was "Reps Uncovered" territory, without the reps. Hoards of shirtless blokes with varying degrees of tan/burn drinking themselves into oblivion and then thinking they were looking attractive enough to go on the pull. Yogi actually described it best when he noticed the similarity between the zombies in Sean of the Dead (or Dawn of the Dead if you're a purist) lunging, arms outstretched towards their victim and the sight on the beach as the sun came up after the Full Moon Party. I know I'm sounding like a bit of an old git, and to be honest I did feel a bit of one. I actually had a great time on Phangan though, mostly because it was good to be with Yogi again and also we were lucky enough to meet a lovely bunch of Danish, and trust me, the Danish know how to party more than we do.

Next Yogi and I headed up to Koh Tao for a last couple of dives before he had to go back to Israel. The diving was terrible and made me realise how spoilt I'd been in the Philippines but Koh Tao was good fun. Not as wild as Phangan, but enough to make me need a few days chilling (liver recovery) on my own once Yogi had left, so I headed to Aow Leuk on the quiet side of the island and had a fantastic time ignoring the rest of the world, reading, sunbathing, swimming and hammocking. I've realised over the last 7 months that occasionally I need to do this - withdraw completely, not communicate with anyone, and I love it.

Then it was back to Bangkok to meet Emma again. For those of you who haven't been paying attention, Emma and I first met in Indonesia last year then we met in the Philippines for 2 weeks in May. We had such a good time that she decided to come back in June for a month before heading to India. The plan had been to probably meet in Australia some time later in the year, but plans never stay the same so we decided we'd travel a bit more of South East Asia together. Not a light undertaking as we are both pretty independent and love travelling on our own but you've got to take some risks sometimes.

It was fantastic to see each other again (although I was pretty disappointed Emma wasn't taken by India at all, it being one of my all time favourite places) and amazing to sit down and be able to say "ok, where shall we go?". Diving was obviously our main priority so after a few days in Bangkok with Kiwi Geoff (of the ridiculous betting fame) we got the train down to Malaysia and headed over to the Perhentian Islands. They are truly stunning; gorgeous beaches backed by thick jungle, beautiful clear water and some not bad diving (I'm still spoilt by Phil.s). Not a bad place to have my birthday either, although we were a little bit sneaky and pretended my birthday was on the 11th and celebrated it then as we had to leave and travel all day on the 12th. No one seemed to mind when I drunkenly told them the truth, but I did feel a little bit guilty when Emma had to travel with me the next day me not only with a screaming hangover (avoid Malaysian whiskey at all costs) but also put up with me reminding her it was my really my birthday today and she should be extra nice to me.

So finally up to date. Currently in Kuala Lumpur, waiting for an Indonesian visa (which it annoyingly turns out we could have got cheaper and quicker at the border) before heading to Sumatra for some more diving. The plan after that is still pretty vague. Emma wants to do her divemaster and I need to get a job and some experience somewhere before doing my instructors course, so we're on the look out for a suitable spot. In the meantime as long as there's water in the ocean, heat in the sun and beer in the fridge I'm sure well manage.

Crazy Golf

Of all the things I thought I'd find myself doing on my travels, becoming addicted to crazy golf was definitely not one of them. In fact, I'd never played in my life. When I first got to Malapascua and someone told me there was a crazy golf course I laughed. This is a tiny island. Then they told me there was a bar there and I took them a bit more seriously. So one evening off we went into the maze of huts and paths in the woods behind the beach in search of the mythical course. After getting totally lost and being gently guided by bemused villagers suddenly lo, like a shining star was a sign declaring we had arrived. We were enthusiastically greeted by the lovely Annan who guided us round, issuing tips on where to hit the ball, how hard to hit it etc, and that was it I was hooked. When I learnt that my first round of 46 was good enough to get me onto that months leader board there was no turning back. Around the bar are painted boards recording for posterity the top 10 scores for each month. Being just slightly competitive I knew I had to be top for at least one month before I left.

So, the die was cast. Crazy Golf became the closest thing to a local I've ever had. If I hadn't arrived by 6 o'clock Annan and her crazy German husband, Torsten, would be worried that something had happened to me. Anyone who dived with us was dragged up there, and at one point Andrea, my instructor, suggested I might have to choose between my divemaster and crazy golf. It was a tough decision.

I think without Crazy Golf I'd have gone slightly mad on Malapascua. It was my escape, my release and the site of some of my best memories:

In no particular order -

• Trevor playing the 18th (a bastard of a hole) in torrential rain wearing only his underpants. (It also involved a dutch girl in her bra but you had to be there to know the full story)
• The Inaugral Malapascua Tequila Masters: A fantastic kiwi couple, Geoff and Caroline, Emma and I thinking it was a good idea to play a round where the loser on each hole drinks a shot of tequila. Geoff and I had a side bet that the winner between the 2 of us gets to shave the others head in any style they like. A whole bottle of tequila later Geoff lost and I vaguely remember getting half way through an attempt at a union jack before Annan wisely wrestled the clippers from me before I did some serious damage. (incidentally, Geoff got me back on the next ridiculous bet and I ended up singing Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On in the karaoke bar wearing a bikini)
• Celebrating Christmas one day in July because Torsten accidentally put on a Christmas CD. Of course we had to celebrate New Year a week later. Holding hands round Hole 8 singing Auld Lang Syne drinking some lethal German spirit in the middle of July was pretty surreal
• raising a glass to the memory of a fighting cock (victorious but with us no more) bought and donated to a local family by a lovesick Danishman to preserve the honour of their daughter
• 31st July - waiting until midnight to ensure no-one had beaten my month's top score of 35
• Torsten shaving his very Germanic bushy moustache off because he lost a bet over Michael Schumacher's place in the German Grand Prix
• a very drunk Andrea sitting in the karaoke bar/shed, demanding Annan fetches the tequila from the Crazy Golf Bar (which she'd closed at least 4 hours earlier). Torsten being not very amused the next day

Ok, I know it's a little bit sad when your whole existense revolves round diving and crazy golf...but I loved it.

Malapascua - thoughts

I don't know what it was that made me stay on Malapascua. I only went there for 3 days to kill time before a flight to Palawan and was then leaving the Philippines. When I finally left nearly 3 months later it felt like leaving home all over again. I suppose it was lots of things: Trevor and Andrea who ran the diveshop, thresher sharks, Crazy Golf, not too many but enough tourists, Captain Geoff, the varied diving, sunday roast at the Kuan-ba, or maybe just travel fatigue. I'd spent 2 weeks rushing around with Emma and then found somehwere that just felt right to stay for a bit. Trevor and Andrea's passion for diving was infectious and something told me I'd learn a lot by doing my Divemaster with them. More than I would have in any other place I'd been to. But this wasn't just about the diving. It was about finding somewhere I could stay for long enough to complete my DM that didn't drive me mad with it's busy-ness but kept me interested enough to stay.

Malapascua'a not a big place. It's maybe 4km North to South, 2km East to West. There are no cars, one small town, a few villages, no mains power, no landlines, no freshwater, a few restaurants, I late night bar (closed for low season), 2 karaoke bars and a crazy golf couse. It's attraction a as a tourist destination is two-fold. For divers, along with other fantastic dive sites, it's the only place in the world you're almost guaranteed to see thresher sharks. For non-divers, it's peaceful, has beautiful beaches and cold beer (most of the time).

It was a simple life living there. A typical day went like this: up at 5 to be in the dive shop for 5.30 to get everything ready for the 6 o'clock shark dive. Most people came primarily for this dive so it was important that everything went smoothly, not easy at that hour of the morning, in the dark. Back at 8ish for breakfast, usually eggs and rice from the lovely Josephine who lived in a beach shack next door to the diveshop and was happy to provide sustenance for 20p. The rest of the day involved 2 great hardships: diving and sitting around chatting, smoking fags, drinking coffee. Once the last dive was over, coffee generally turned to San Miguel before nipping up to Crazy Golf for a beer or 2 and a round before sunset. If I was feeling energetic, dinner at Sunsplash (the only lively restaurant/bar on the island), if not, quick dinner at the Kuan-ba where I stayed and then bed by 10.

OK, so anyone on Malapascua would probably disagree and say there was a bit more karaoke involved, certainly a lot more booze and occasionally a lot more mayhem. Maybe they're right.

I'm still not sure why I stayed so long. As the weeks went on things did begin to irritate me. A small island in the Philippines is no different to a small village in Devon. Island politics were ridiculous. I missed freshwater showers, I missed lie-ins, I missed eating in different places, I missed home sometimes. But these were small prices to pay for 3 months I'll never forget. In a few years Malapascua will be very different - tourism is growing exponentially. For all the benefits tourists bring to a destination they also destroy the soul of a place. I feel priviledged to have spent time, and been part of, an island that still holds onto that soul. Maybe that's why I didn't want to leave.