Islanders

A gentle breeze wanders sideways through my afternoon
I gaze abstractedly at the sea lapping below me dreaming where it might take me.

Another island day, punctuated with the change of tides and strength of wind, time itself seems irrelevant.

Islanders.

They come from everywhere and between them have done most things. None of it means a great deal in their present mindset. Nothing is rushed, no force, genuine people abound. Some work, some don't need to, all are accepted, religion, colour, sexual preference, ethnicity all celebrated, everyone welcome. All are coloured with a self reliance and a timeless spirit eager to share without any competitive thought. The vortex they create is magnetic, easily capable of overpowering.

Clothing is functional, shoes are for formal occasions. The goal of the day is to appreciate what surrounds.

I find myself finally unwinding and learning to celebrate the silences between conversations without any self consciousness. No longer a pregnant pause or a negative space to be filled by some form of entertainment such as music or TV. Now a chance to listen simply to the wind. Feel the rain on my face. Appreciate the suns warmth and the nights cool.

Manyana, tomorrow. Maybe I will find my shoes.

Treasure Island

An eagle glides majestically across the verdant jungle, rising to its eerie on the cliffs of the island.

My boat lies at anchor, 40 metres from the line of the shore.

I hear the play of monkeys in the forest, birdsong and the soft susurrus of the sea lapping at my side and breaking in small waves on the beach.

This is Langkawi. Malaysia’s paradise in the Andaman.

Two months ago, almost to the day, I flew in for the first time ever to finally join my new boat (well new for me anyway). I knew no one, and had not so great knowledge (other than books and conversations) of boats but a dream.

A strong dream, nurtured since I was about 10 years old and was walking down a wharf with my Dad where we found an old abandoned fishing boat. I could see its charms immediately, but Dad didn’t quite see how we could get it home.

Long years have passed and when I arrived in Langkawi, it was like walking into that dream.

My first impressions of the place on jetting in from fast paced Singapore were not great.

A bit grubby? Not much infrastructure, hellish hot. Maybe I had made a mistake.

Several weeks passed and my love for the boat I had bought increased daily. I was busy as a one armed wallpaper hanger learning and commissioning navigation systems, power and light, engine and batteries and of course learning about sails.

The camaraderie in marinas amongst cruising sailors is deservedly legendary. Here are people who have lifted themselves from the mundane and struck out on extraordinary journeys of self and world discovery. All of them help me. From parts to advice, from sail cleats to yoghurt recipes. I am amongst some of the friendliest people I have known to date. A striking characteristic of all these people is their lack of commerciality and their acceptance of all races. Quite remarkable. Considering I knew no one when I arrived, I now have family whose exploits on the sea I keenly listen to.

As I move around town and interact with the locals, buying fittings, engine parts, even food, I meet some of the loveliest unassuming people to add to this family.  I spend hours just pleasantly chatting, something I cant ever recall doing.

Days fly by, and it dawns on me that Langkawi is not about the towns and main island, its truly the people that make this place special.

Today, nearly 2 months after arriving as a novice, me and my boat lie at anchor in one of the most scenically picturesque islands I have ever seen. No one is around. Earlier I walked the beach, listened to the monkeys play, watched as eagles soared above and the hornbills flapped noisily squawking around the forest.

Only tracks left of humanity were my footmarks in the white sand.

Paradise found

For Pete, cause he did deserve to be here.

Honestly

Or was that Honesty.

First, let me mention how hot it is. As in ice cream just isn't an option here hot.

OK, 100 miles north or north east of where i sit now, this would NOT have happened.

As you do from time to time, I needed to buy bread, so into 7/11 (convenience store chain) I go and take a loaf of bread off the shelf, proceed to the check out counter with cash in hand, wait in queue and then my turn, pass the money, get some water as well and wait....... the check out clerk, looks at the use by tag on the bread and then replaces the loaf with a fresher one.

I didnt ask him. No legislation requires him to do it. He didn't make a big deal of it either. To him it was just important to be fair.

I am in a Malaysia. Langkawi actually. Kuah if you really want to know. Email me for the longitude and latitude :-)

North and North East of me is Thailand.

There, I would be charged extra because of my white face (well slightly sunburnt face, did I mention the heat?).

In Thailand, the rip off is an art form. Practiced from an early age. From the moment you arrive at the slightly new airport and are harassed all the way from the point of baggage collection to rent a taxi, until you leave by the same portal, the smiling faces always seem to want to sell you something. Always more expensive than it should be, but what the heck you're on holiday eh?

Having based there for quite some time, one gets guarded whenever approached on the street by a stranger (no not in that kind of way). My hand automatically covers my wallet. Thailand, land of a thousand smiles.

Back to Malaysia. The melody of the Mullah drifts through the heavy humid air. Languid. Oh yes, here the state religion is Islam.

I am approached on the street by a stranger. He says hi and asks where I come from. My hand flexes and covers. Guardedly I respond. Turns out he's a tourist like me, and just wants to chat. Nice guy, nothing to sell.

All over town, people say hi to each other, even old tourists like me. No one yet has tried to sell me anything. No one yet has been anything other than very polite and friendly in a genuine way. 100 miles to Thailand. 20,000 miles of cultural change.

I blame Islam for this, or maybe its the heat.

Salam Malam