The end of Asia

The remainder of our time in Malaysia was split equally between Kuala Lumpar and Melaka, both of which I will summarise briefly.  Similar to many other South East Asian cities, KL is an interesting mix of old and new, where ancient religious buildings and colonial architecture sit alongside towering skyscrapers, sleek shopping malls and expensive restaurants.  Following one rainy afternoon spent browsing the same shops that one would find in Glasgow, I found myself feeling quite depressed.  Maybe the reason is that our budget can’t stretch to cover such luxuries, and, even if it could, my backpack wouldn’t have the space to accommodate any form of wardrobe extension.  If anything, after three and half months in textile heaven, it’s time for a clothing cull.  Or maybe, while we are on this journey, material things become of so little value that we cease to desire them, for what wealth could they possibly add to our experience of seeing this incredible world?  Of course, as I have said previously, I am full of longing for the unique, artisan-made handicrafts that fill the colourful markets all over South East Asia.  However, such items of beauty that have been created by the hands of the people who live here, I think, are as much a part of the blood that runs through the veins of these cultures as the food or the history or the landscape, and seeing, feeling and appreciating them is one of the ways in which you can experience that culture more fully.

Melaka is a gem of a place that feels less like a city and more like a delightful town.  The central part boasts beautiful buildings that are both reminiscent of the city’s past Dutch presence as well as reflecting the influence of its current Chinese residents, who, it seems, have a “town” everywhere.   This unexpected mixture is quite charming, and reminds me of Hoi An, Vietnam, which remains one of my favourite places in South East Asia, and in which I wish we had stayed longer.  For four days we enjoyed Melaka's enchanting streets, quirky shops and delicious cuisine, before heading to our final Asian destination of Singapore.

As we had no intention of shopping, Singapore didn’t really hold a great deal of interest for us, however, whilst here we enjoyed a couple of free music concerts and, following an encounter with a shop devoted entirely to ukuleles, now find ourselves in possession of one of these happy little instruments, which we have christened “Gooch”.  On our final night, having decided that we had to have one, we toasted our time in Asia with extraordinarily expensive Singapore Slings; but how often are we in Singapore after all?

A reflection

It astounds me that the first part of our adventure is over, but, of course, am filled with excitement for the next.  We feel ready to move on, for though our time in Asia has been wonderful, after three and half months of living the life of nomads, we are looking forward to settling somewhere for a little longer to charge our near-empty batteries.  To quote Ecclesiastes, “there is a time for everything under heaven”, and now is our time to rest.  Open sewers, language barriers and uncertainty over what meat you might be eating are a few of the things that I will certainly not miss about Asia, however, there are many things that I will miss - the wonderful markets, deliciously diverse cuisine and abundance of beautiful craft shops in particular.  Asia is a continent brimming with treasures, of which I feel we have experienced just a few. 

It is hard to take a trip like this and not have it change you.  This time has been one of new experiences, and learning, and of healing.  Though nothing hurts, I feel that time takes its toll, no matter ones circumstances, and it has on both of us.  Over the past few years our bodies and our hearts have suffered multiple trauma; painful, unstoppable and often self-inflicted.  Here, we are encountering such a wealth of new things that take up permanent occupation in our minds, forcing any previous hardships into what feels, now, like a past life.  Experiencing them together is allowing us to begin building the most incredible and unusual foundations for our marriage, which we hope, God willing, will be long and full of our own treasure (both of the earthly and heavenly kind).  Here we have been learning about beauty and simplicity, humanity and our place within it. 

A trip like this seems, to some, indulgent, expensive and a youthful escape from real responsibility.  And maybe it was slightly irresponsible to quit our jobs in the middle of a recession when one counts them self lucky just to have a job, but I would do it again without a moments’ hesitation.  For the truth is, that though we may come home and have nothing but the clothes in our backpacks and an eclectic assortment of engagements presents, no amount of money can buy the consequences of this kind of adventure.

A book I read whilst in Thailand quoted Saint Augustine and I, in turn, will do the same. 

“Our whole business therefore in this life is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen.”

This earth is God’s masterpiece, and He deserves to have it enjoyed by the ones He loves the most.  In seeing the beauty that it encompasses I see God.  By seeing the treasures of His creating, I am overwhelmed by His power and glory and majesty, and question, without the intention to offend, how anyone could really believe that it all came about by chance.  Standing amongst it, I can feel His presence, and that is what heals the soul.  Though physically drained to the point of exhaustion, I have never felt so alive, and am so full of anticipation for all  the experiences that await us; the wonders we have yet to see.  And in each wonder, the still, small voice and a little glimpse of glory, to which nothing else could ever possibly compare.

An (unexpected) home from home

Having decided to revolt against Lonely Planet, we entered Malaysia with a very alien Rough Guides travel book, the unfamiliarity of which meant that neither of us had bothered to actually read it.  In fact, we knew so little about our newest destination that it took us almost 24 hours to realise that we had entered a new time zone.  (Fortunately our ignorance did not have any serious repercussions).  

Despite a lack of pre-conceived ideas (which sometimes, I have discovered, can be a positive thing), Malaysia is still not at all how I expected it would be.  Though in such close proximity to its northern neighbour, Thailand, it somehow looks and feels different in every respect.  With its British plug sockets, sleek motorways, abundance of Shell garages and English speaking residents, Malaysia’s past British presence is still in such strong evidence that it feels less like a history and more like a heritage that has been engrained into their culture, both past and present.

The first stop on our Malaysian itinerary is Georgetown, a fascinating city that boasts the most incredible mix of architecture and cultural variety, which, in my opinion, justifies its UNESCO World Heritage status.  Its’ beautiful buildings are, unsurprisingly, reminiscent of colonial Britain, amongst which lie smatterings of pastel-coloured European town houses, lantern-adorned Chinese shop fronts and Bollywood movie theatres.  It is truly a treat for the eyes, and I cannot stop taking photographs.  As well as the local Malays, there are large populations of both Chinese and Indians which makes for a remarkable mix of dining possibilities, and we have discovered since arriving here that Indian food for breakfast is in a taste bud league that, before now, was only occupied by Vietnamese Pho.  Cereal and toast as an alternative seem truly dull in comparison, and such culinary delights are, undoubtedly, what I will miss the most when we depart for Australia.

Though aesthetically enchanting, our enjoyment of Georgetown was slightly marred by its overwhelming 35 degree temperatures.  Since leaving Scotland, I have developed a newfound appreciation for the chilly temperatures of home, and so it was with some relief that we departed for the Cameron Highlands which, because of its altitude, sits at a much more comfortable 25 degrees.  As a result of its cool climate and daily rain showers, the landscape looks much more like that of Scotland, and being surrounded by mountains and pine trees came as a welcome reminder of home during a spell of homesickness.  

During Malaysia’s days of British occupation, those Brits who, like me, were unable to handle the equatorial heat and humidity flocked to the Cameron Highlands, inflicting their Britishness on unsuspecting Malays with their golf and scones.  One afternoon we treated ourselves to high tea at “Ye Olde Smokehouse”, a quintessentially British experience that would have been more at home in the countryside of Gloucestershire than on the “moors” of Malaysia.  But jolly good scones nonetheless!

Our time here was mostly spent hiking through moss-covered forests and playing Scrabble in our hostel, and was a refreshing break from vibrant towns and energetic cities.   One day we went to a tea plantation, the view of which is maybe the most beautiful I have ever been privilege to.  Sipping tea, looking out over luscious rolling green hills was both good for the eyes and the soul, and I felt so deliciously content.

Though sad that this time in Asia is fast approaching its end, we feel quite ready for the next stage of our trip.  Three months of always being on the move has left us exhausted, and we are looking forward to some time spent relaxing in the company of some of Phil’s relatives.  We realise that it is not the 9 to 5 regularity of home that we miss, but instead the little luxuries that so often we take for granted.  Home-cooked dinners; hot water washing machines; lying on the couch watching movies; drinking good wine with friends and family.  These are the things that we treasure and long for the familiarity of.  Seeing this amazing world is an incredible privilege, but being in the presence of the people you love is just as much of a privilege, and one that I am learning to appreciate more and more every day.

A little slice of paradise

“For me, the sea has always been a confident, a friend absorbing all it is told and never revealing those secrets; always giving the best advice – whose meaningful noises can be interpreted in any way you choose.”  (from The Motorcycle Diaries by Ernesto “Che” Guevara)

I have always loved the sea, and in its presence, more than anywhere else, my imagination has a tendency to run away with itself.   In the summers of my childhood, I would sidle along sandy beaches, lost in fantasies of enthusiastic and naive ambitions.   As an adolescent those same walks would entertain hopes and wonderings of future love, and in later years, seek solace and repair for a broken heart, damaged as a result of those relationships that never quite matched up to the imaginings of my younger self.  Family holidays sailing in the Western Isles, my mind would be firmly planted in lands unknown with characters who, sadly, I never did have the chance to meet.

 

It is with some level of astonishment that we find ourselves by the ocean in the Southern Gulf of Thailand, at a stage of our trip which, on embarking, seemed so very far away.  Here on the beaches of Koh Phangan and Koh Samui, it is so wonderfully peaceful that finally we feel able to truly relax and recover from the sheer exhaustion that comes from never staying more than a few nights in any one place. 

These islands are the closest thing I have ever seen to paradise.  They are the Thailand that one sees in pictures and hopes for when they choose to go there, and the tranquility that we found on their shores is exactly what we were in need of after nearly three months of travelling.  I am firmly of the belief that the sea soothes the soul, and during the nine days that we spent on these islands, it did exactly that.  It is easy to get lost in your thoughts, sharing them only with the waves; meditating on what has past and wondering of things yet to come.  The time we had was enough to suitably recharge ourselves, both physically, emotionally, and maybe even spiritually, too, for it is easy to see evidence of God when you are in paradise.  I could, however, have quite easily whiled away many more days wandering along their stunning shorelines, lying on their golden sands and watching their spectacular sunsets.  The sunsets, in particular, I would never tire of, so breathtaking are they that it is easy to imagine, just for a moment - this moment that you have been privileged enough to witness – heaven has touched earth.

A little more Lao

Places like Vang Vieng are the reason we have decided to boycott Lonely Planet.  Which we have since discovered is no mean feat, as all the book shops in Asia seem to sell no travel guides other than second hand or dodgy photocopies of these incessant books.  Admittedly, without our China guide we might not have made it out of Hong Kong, however as time has gone on and now we find ourselves on our fifth book, you start to notice patterns of vastly increased prices of the featured accommodation and eateries, and often lack of beds in the aforementioned accommodation due to every South East Asian traveller owning a copy of the same Lonely Planet and therefore arriving, en masse, in hope of a bed.

Vang Vieng is a very unexceptional town that happens to be situated amongst some of the most exceptional scenery we have encountered yet.  We have chosen to stay in the accommodations of an organic mulberry farm, which, I admit, were, once again, recommended by the Lonely Planet, however sounded too perfect to pass up.  Situated on the banks of the Nam Song River, it is surrounded by towering limestone karsts reminiscent of those in Yangshou, the sweetheart of our Chinese adventure.  So breathtakingly picturesque and peacefully silent but for the sounds of birds twittering and wind rustling the fruit trees, it seems almost too good to be true.  And unfortunately, on this occasion, it is.  

With its exceptional natural beauty, Vang Vieng was never going to avoid the tourist map, and in 1999 was finally “discovered” by one Laos-bound Lonely Planet writer.  But sadly, the ever-growing popularity of this place has turned Vang Vieng into the kind of tourist town that people flock to, no longer for her magnificent landscapes, but to party.  Riverside bars have appeared in their masses along the banks of the Nam Song and, with them, hoards of young travellers in search of a good time.  There is the opportunity for outdoor sports if one so desires, but the preferred “sport” amongst backpackers here is “tubing”; essentially floating down the river in a large rubber ring stopping at as many bars as possible to consume as many cocktail buckets (yes, buckets!) as one can physically manage before, inevitably, vomiting.  One particularly tragic sight for us was that of a lone, twenty-something girl, floating down the river, bucket in hand, at 11 o’clock in the morning.

The little devil on my shoulder kindly reminds me that once, not so long ago, I would have loved everything about this river, with its loud music, zip-lines, abundance of cocktails and influx of party-goers.  I, in turn, point out to him that the fact that everything in my being loathes this river just goes to show how far life has come from where, and who, I used to be.  I give thanks for God for his grace in saving me from myself, for without Him, I ascertain that I would not be at the point in my life that I am, blessed with a beautiful husband with whom to explore this world.  The little devil tries to tempt me, but to no avail.  Undoubtedly, there are aspects of this hedonistic river that still appeal to my sense of fun, but I imagine that the most one might get out of the experience is bad sunburn, a horrible hangover and maybe an injury of sorts.

From around 10.30am until sunset every day, the peace of this place is polluted by what you might describe as a pop/rave/head-banging/beat-thumping/mess of music.  It is, evidently, hard to describe!  It is as though someone has obtained every overplayed song from 2010, and is now playing them all very loudly, all at the same time.  It is enough to bring on a headache.  Though we loved the organic farm and found it a beautiful setting to spend a few days, it has undoubtedly suffered from its situation next to this riotous river, and a few days was all that we, in what may be the start of our old-age, could handle.

Our third and final stop on our whistle-stop tour of Laos was the capital, Vientiane.  Laos’ only official city, Vientiane lacks the reputation for beauty held by Luang Prabang, and is certainly not known for its party scene a la Vang Vieng, much to our relief.  It has, instead, the quiet hustle and bustle of a relaxed city without the unfortunate tourist surge of our other Lao destinations, and with its balcony-clad cafes, relaxed bars and unmistakably French architecture, we found it to have feeling that was almost Parisian.  The streets are lined with fairy light-adorned restaurants selling cheap but tasty fare, and we can’t get enough of them.  In fact, we have had to stay an extra day in attempt to do so.  If Vientiane is to be famed for anything it should undoubtedly be its weaving which is in wonderful, colourful abundance all over the city.  This, of course, delighted me to no end and self-control had to called upon once again.

If we had had the time to do so, I would have liked to have explored more of Laos’ more remote areas, for what we glimpsed of its landscapes were, I imagine, only a taste of its exceptional rumoured beauty.  But alas it was, on this occasion, not to be, and suddenly, feeling as if we have barely just arrived, our time in Laos is over and we are on our way back to Thailand.