Still on Langkawi, and it's looking like I may be here for at least two more days, because life is proving to be quite inexpensive, I'm still holding out for a response to the message I put on the notice board in the yacht club from anyone who wants to whisk me away for a sail, there's a barbecue at a CouchSurfer's house tomorrow, and I've sent a load of washing into the laundry to get seen to (extravagant I know, but I'd worn every shred of clothing I own and sweated buckets in everything several times over, so drastic measures were needed - I shall try to return to sink washing from now on).
My camp on Sunday night was a bit sketchy, found my way out to the nearest beach to the jetty and main town, only to find there's a reason it's not a famous tourist destination. A decrepit beach resort was undergoing much needed renovations, there was no shortage of debris on the beach, the sea was cloudy and the sand dirty. I wasn't bothered trying to find a better spot, though, it was going to have to do me for the night. So I lugged my baggage up a rocky slope behind some trees in the hopes of finding a more secluded spot to pitch my humble tent. Found a patch of dried grass with an area down the middle about my size that didn't have any nasty stones close to the surface, and decided to put myself down there.
Once I was set up I decided to go for a quick swim before heading into town. Bobbed around for a bit in the water and when I came out I saw the police car, and a solitary cop sitting at one of the resort benches watching me. He was soon joined by another officer from the car. I decided that there were only two possibilities, the most likely being that someone had ratted me out on my free camping (a bit harsh, I felt, as if anyone had said anything I'd have been more than willing to shift and find another spot), and that they were waiting for me to dry myself off before pulling me up. The second possibility was that they were on a break and enjoying their cigarettes while glaring at the stupid, guilty looking foreigner. I threw on my t-shirt gathered my things and began to make my way back to the gap in the trees where I began the scramble up the rocks (noticing as I did so that this entrance was directly in front of the resort reception - oops), expecting at any moment for the police to call me back, but they didn't. I made my way back up to the tent and hung up my wet things, waiting for the fuzz to follow me up. Nothing. It wasn't until they drove off that I realised that it must have actually been their cigarette break.
Later I got a lift into town, but wasn't sure exactly which town, as we went a round about way to get there, moseyed around for a bit looking for a landmark that would correlate to either of the two rubbish free maps I'd picked up from the information centre at the jetty, and finally came across the Bella Vista Hotel, which unfortunately was a dead end and meant that I had to plod all the way back around this artificial lake that I'd been hoping to circumnavigate to make my way back to the main road.
At this stage I was just patting myself on the back, thinking how clever I was to take anything that I really, really needed with me (passport, laptop, wallet being the main concerns) so that any raid on my tent would be ultimately fruitless for a thief that would chance sacking it. "All of my important things are nice and safe", I thought smugly, "unless..." I looked around the derelict street I now found myself on, "...unless I get mugged." It was just as this thought crossed my little mind that the rough, homeless-looking lads sitting on the curb drinking beer saw me looking lost and started shouting directions back to the main road at me. I thanked them and kept walking. One of them shouted after me asking what country I came from, but the accent was so strong that it took me a few seconds to register that he was talking to me, but then I turned around and called back that I was from Ireland. I don't think they'd been expecting an answer, and so they called me over and started asking me questions, inviting me to sit with them a while. The chattier one jumped on a scooter to make a beer run, which I tried to decline, but his response was, "Mr Damien, what is the biggest ship in the world?" I didn't know. "Friendship!" he smiled. Who was I to argue with such logic, although I was fairly sure he'd got the line wrong. So I was left with the other two guys, one a fisherman, the other an electrician, making small talk until he came back.
After my new friend arrived with the drinks, and passed the cans around, he ran upstairs to make me something to eat, which I said wasn't necessary, but he insisted on doing. We chatted a bit longer, another beer run was made (I paid this time), and more food was brought out for me. The beer runner brought me over to the lake while he checked his eight crab cages (all empty) and told me that if I needed a place to stay I could stay with him for nothing if I liked, as I'd told a bit of a pork pie, saying that I was staying in a hotel at the other side of town. By this time it was approaching sunset, and I really wanted to get out of there before it got dark, so I excused myself, and they let me go, but not until I agreed to come back the following day for dinner with them.
The next day, after moving my camp to a much nicer area, with the help of two guys from Pakistan who gave me a lift out to the beach-side motel where they were staying and let me leave my big bag in their car so I didn't have to cart it around all over the place while I was looking for a suitable site. Met up with a girl from CS and her visiting friend for a while, had a swim with the Pakistanis, collected my bag and set up my gear and made my way back to town to keep my promise and let the guys cook me dinner. I wasn't entirely sure about bringing all my stuff with me again, but I had nowhere else to leave it, and seeing as I hadn't been accosted in any way the evening before I felt I was probably going to be OK. They were almost in the same place I'd left them, except now they were sitting in the stairwell of one the run down building where the beer runner lived. More beers were bought, and I was brought up to the sparsely furnished apartment, which my host showed me with pride had a bathroom and his own TV and DVD collection. I was given a chair, the only one, and he threw on a DVD - American Ninja - a film which he liked a lot (he was also a big Chuck Norris fan). I wasn't allowed lift a finger while the guys gave me rice and some fish - caught in the lake (I tried not to think about how polluted the lake water must be) and fried in a wok, over a wood fire on the concrete floor of the corridor outside the front door of his apartment.
The hospitality was refreshing, the food simple but really very good. As sunset once again drew near I started to say my goodbyes, and my host rooted about in a drawer, fishing out a ring which he presented to me, saying that he wanted me to have it to remember him by. I told him I couldn't accept such a gift, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He also gave me a cap that he didn't want, and made me promise to give him something to remember me by before I leave the island. I hit the road then as I wanted to get a lift back to my camp site before dark (but I failed). As I was hitching I moved the bulky ring from the ring finger on my right hand, as it was uncomfortable (I don't usually do rings), placing on my little finger, which looked a bit silly. I decided then that I'd have to get a chain and wear it on that. It wasn't until I was sitting in the foul smelling back seat my next ride approaching my destination that I realised that the ring was gone. It must have fallen off soon after I changed fingers, but it wasn't in the car. I feel pretty terrible about it.
Met up with the girls again for a few drinks, and bumped into a guy from Dublin who's teaching in Thailand (the first Irish guy I've met out here). I showed them the photo I took of my friends in town, and realised then that they all look like they're in the buff. They were all wearing pants though, honest.
Anyway, when I finally made my way back to my tent I found the guys from Pakistan waiting for me at my tent to make sure I was alright, and that I didn't want to crash in their room for the night. Apparently they'd tried to drive along the beach to where I was camping but got their car stuck in the sand for about forty-five minutes before they got it out with the help of some locals. We've all been there...
That's all for now, my battery has just finished charging - I had to actually go into MacDonald's and buy something today, instead of sitting outside it like I usually do, in search of a plug socket. Bloody hell it gets noisy in here, I wanted to clatter several screeching kids and their parents. But I controlled the urge.
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