... I start to reflect. I left Malaysian Borneo.
I appreciate every traveller-type starts to wax lyrical
about how all they need is their bag on their back and the simplicities that
life offers when you are fortunate. I’m hopefully not going to do that. (As a
rule with these mails, I don’t edit them so I a genuinely quite curious what
gems I am going to spout).
*new paragraph*
I am content with my life as it is at the moment. I am
surrounded by good people with, strong hearts and giving personalities. The sun
is shining at the moment, it’s warm, having not had a hot shower in almost a
month I now have perma-hot water from a natural hot spring. Talk about going
from one extreme to the other! I haven’t changed my clothes properly for 2
weeks. My hair is matted. My beard is dull and lifeless. UNFORGIVEABLE. I have
cuts, grazes and bruises all over my body (including a split above my eye
gained from a flying can of beer in the dark. More about that later). All in
all, each mark or blemish make me feel a little happier that I am outside
constantly. I sleep outside often, I eat outside almost always and I walk
somewhere to somewhere else daily. I think that is what I will miss. The mud,
blood sweat and fears. There have been no tears, but I have to cross this
bridge each day and I shit myself every time I do. I was not designed to carry
me.
Last time I wrote I had been in the jungles on my own. For
those of your who entered the ‘Back to the start’ 10Ringit mega-competition,
the answer was Razorlight. Sadly no one won this time so the prize will be
rolled over into a 20Ringit super-Saturday giveaway this time. I was camping
here and there, walking there and here. Sometimes with a clue of where I was
often with no idea whatsoever, just a firm belief that I would find where I was
aiming for when I got there.
Eventually, with some luck and some judgement I placed
myself on a path I knew well and stayed there a day and a half, I saw monkeys
wander through the tree tops and heard gibbons VERY near. Then, I was woken by
a human whistling. It was Rian, the local jungle hero and an old friend from my
trip. Embarrassingly, I had slept until 12pm. I joined him and we walked on to
RiverSnail camp. He had found an abandoned baby civet cat in one of the
previous camps and had rescued him. I called him Derek. He was AWESOME. He
liked sleeping in my sleeve. As you can imagine, I loved him greatly but sadly
he died after 6 days in our car after a VERY cold night in the highlands.
I wandered back to Pa’ Umor with Rian and Jaun – his
assistant. Jaun is 27, dark skinned, softly spoken, kind and strangely petite
to look at BUT built like a tank. I don’t have a man-crush on him. I DON’T OK!
We talked, drank, smoked, ate and pondered many of life’s intricacies at Rian’s
house. Eventually Jimmy arrived and the pattern continued with an added healthy
dose of Britishness. The inaugural night at ‘The VIP’ happened. This mystical
fortress of wonderment was actually just Rian’s balcony, but it was about the
size of a booth at a club and so we acted and treated it that way. ) We mainly
drank Chapappé (CA), pronounced chup-app-pey. It’s a local spirit deemed to
have medicinal properties. It’s quite nice really and generally drunk with
strong dark tea as a mixer. LOVELY. At £3 a bottle it is the cheapest and most
pleasant way to get obliterated.
On a walk home for Pa’ Umor, in the pitch black from the
local (8km away). Jim thought it would be a good idea to throw me a beer,
again, I stress in the pitch black... We didn’t have torches because we said we
wouldn’t be out late. Famous last words. The can hit me HARD above the eye. I
bled a bit. It has healed nicely now.
THEN, I met the hippy Canadian – Stu. This is a fella who is
doing everything right. He is a carpenter, a self proclaimed ideas man and an
all-round good guy. He has built, and I mean, literally he himself has built a
few cabins in his pineapple farm with a plunge pool for washing. The water was
gorgeously clear and invigoratingly cold. BLISS. I know I have used this word a
few times but honestly I cannot think of a better word. Utopia could creep in
there but I think that is a pretty big statement. There is only one other
occasion back home that I regularly use the word bliss/blissful and that
relates to my weekend holidays at Glastonbury. Anyway. Stu and Rose (his wife)
were wonderful hosts and the growers of the FINEST pineapples in the area which
is a fairly HUGE accolade considering Bario is famed for its pineapples. They
are IN-CREDIBLE. I genuinely need another level of superlative. Out of this
world? But. They are OF this world so maybe beyond comprehension. He also dries
them and makes fruit roll from the pulp mixed with local cane sugar. Joyous.
I learned how to cook some cool things – river fern, curried
tomato, fried rice, crispy fish soup and chilli fried tree grubs (surprisingly
tasty) the list goes on.
It was with great amount of joy that Oz with his big potato
head arrived a few days before I left. We drank CA with gay abandon, then gin
with gayer abandon and THEN, headed to town. I say town, I mean to the only
road in Bario with its two supermarkets/bars. We continued to drink and
play pool. I am not sure if you remember but, I receive a (mortal) would in
battle OR basically a can to the face from Jimmy depending on who I tell the
story to. Upon talking Oz through this, while playing pool, we drunkenly decided
that the stakes for the game should be that the looser has to punch Jimmy in
the face. It made for an interesting game. Ultimately we played a few game,
punch Jimmy a few times. As if this isn’t fun enough, Jimmy went on to lose a
game to Oz. Jimmy is very good at pool. Having lost, he had to punch himself in
the face. Bravo Jim. Good sport.
Since starting this email, I have moved on to the next place
and new chapter in The Bearded Jungleman chronicles. I MIGHT have to
update the name to Bearded Diving Jungleman. Give me some time on that
one though.
I am now in Dauin on the island of Negros. I am stupidly
happy/lucky/happy/lucky (repetition intended). I have my own beachfront
bungalow with an en-suite and the afore mention perma-hot water. I am on cloud
9. Everyone here is friendly, laid back, happy and most importantly WONDERFUL.
I think I will fit in well here. So far, I arrived with my humungor bag and a
smile and now, I have a room with music, wireless(ish) and an even bigger
smile. I am unfashionably content at the mo. I can’t wait for some of you to
come see me here. (You really should. It. IS. AMAZING). Yeah, I know. I
used bold. That’s how good it is. My breakfast was toasted muesli, fresh
pineapple, banana, coconut, mango AND pear/apple WITH MILK. I mean real milk. I
have not had mild since I left the UK.
I am sorry if this is a slightly schizophrenic missive. I
have written in a few sittings. I hope it conveys how content I am and
expresses my gratitude to the world. For me, it’s the thought that at any
moment, we would be taken away from this world, a wrong move while driving and
badly judged handhold when climbing and bang. You’re gone. Right now, I am
living like I mean it and just to re-iterate, I am very thankful that life has
enabled me to be able to do this. Thanks life. Thanks world.
Life is good.
Love (meant in its purest sense),
Ads
x
I learned three things today.
1 sour skittles in Malaysian are ACTUALLY amazingly sour.
This is a good thing
2 Pedicures are ok
3 Faizal Tahir’s acoustic version of his song
Hanyut is beautiful
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