Three islands

December 09, 2018

Rain and a distracted brain finally provides the perfect opportunity to write my long overdue blog. I sit in the Pak Up hostel of Thailand's Krabi, once again on mainland after three island paradises: Penang, Langkawi (both part of Malaysia) and last but not least, Kohlipe - - my gateway drug to Thailand. I shall talk about Penang first, primarily because this was the destination I escaped to after Singapore had burnt significant holes in my pockets, but also for the sake of familial values. Georgetown in Penang was the former home of my great great grandmother Lavinia Brereton Martin and her husband Stephen the solicitor. I was feeling ambitious and energetic the evening I arrived into Georgetown and so decided to brave the one hour fifteen minute walk to Western Road cemetery in the heat without the aid of a taxi. After getting lost several times I arrived to a locked graveyard and the prospect of a long walk home, interspersed of course with some chicken satay. The following day a confused Taxi man drove me to the graveyard, informing me all the while that "there might be ghosts". There were no ghosts, but lots of monkeys.
I finally found my relatives (Lavinia and her daughter Elizabeth ) lying quietly in the protestant section. The feeling of brushing aside the leaves on a mossy and worn looking headstone (dating to 1919) after wandering around tombs for over an hour must be similar to when an archaeologist digs up a lovely human skull or piece of pottery from a time period well before the advent of blogs...

Georgetown itself was a delicious city, both for the tummy and for the eye and I congratulated my ancestors heartily for having lived in such a place. Myself and my friend enjoyed a day whizzing around one way streets the wrong way and taking in the street art which transforms grungy walls throughout the city. The artist is Ernest Zacharevic, a London trained Lithuanian who manages to bring trade and tourism into parts otherwise crumbling and overlooked.

The architecture was colourful and eclectic, a visual representation of Peranakan culture which evolved as the Chinese and Malay cultures blended. Peranakan literally means 'locally born' and the buildings are an exciting fusion of European, Chinese and Malay influences. Georgetown was also host to a large literary event when I was there and so on my last night I attended a 'speak easy' in the cafe/bar/exhibition space/general 'cool' spot, 'The China House' (oh and their CAKE..!) and enjoyed watching cultural stereotypes being smashed right before my very eyes. Most memorable was a woman wearing a Hijab who opened her poem with the statement "I want a Penis"!!

From Georgetown I caught the ferry to Langkawi and stayed in my favorite hostel to date--The Kasbah. Here I found fellow environmentalists trying to stop the plague of single use plastics. Kasbah hostel staff provide guests going to the night markets with reusable lunch boxes and baskets for their purchases. Food can then be brought back to the 'chill out area' to be demolished, no plastic bag in sight or site!

On an 'island hopping' tour the exclusive, mysterious allure that islands should offer was rendered completely obsolete by the sheer volume of tourists all partaking in the same activity. On the third and last island of the tour, 'Beras Basah' we stood dismayed by rubbish galore and spent our hour filling three bags to be taken back to the Kasbah and recycled. Bystanders observed us labouring with slightly confused expressions on their sun tanned holidayed faces.

The seven pools waterfall in Langkawi was the long awaited, natural equivalent of an infinity pool that I could never afford to use. Seven warm pools carved out of smooth rock lie sporadically above the thundering falls below. Moss and water combined with bikini clad bottoms created excellent sliding opportunities from one pool to the next. A perfect jungle playground.

It was with a heavy heart that I left Langkawi (and wonderful hostel friends) for a Thai island that I was sure would be massively touristy and commercial. The ferry stopped and we were brought the remaining distance to Koh Lipe on a wooden long-tail. A boat full of anxious people transported to the beach of a strange new land seemed to make parallels to an entirely different form of traveller, but the similarities stopped there. Immigration was completed on the white sand and, still on the beach I walked to my hostel, dipping my toes into the water as I went. Koh Lipe was all that I did not expect and for that, it was everything.

Tourists and westerners reside on the main beach of Pattaya and the imaginatively named thouroughfare of the island, 'Walking Street'. Penetrate further however and you can take a walk on the wild side: Tin houses, kids on motorbikes, scratching hens and barking dogs protecting Buddhist shrines suddenly appear to remind you of your foreigner status. Koh Lipe island is largely populated by Chao Ley ('sea gypsies' ) who in recent years with the more and more familiar term of 'borders' have had to declare themselves to land. In so doing they have lost much of their heritage and nomadic lifestyle. The dive school I stayed at employed rugged sea gypsies to drive the boats for all of their trips, providing important economy for people who's island home has been rudely taken over. Davie Jones dive school will always have an oxygen tank shape in my heart as the hosts of my first, unforgettable, Scuba experience. I am hooked as hopelessly as a fish on the end of a Chao Ley spear. My time and memories on the magical island will not be forgotten.

Me as I launch into my 13 metre dive exploring the coral around Koh Lipe.