That kerfuffle dealt with, I once again had a very pleasant flight with bmi, sleeping off my weekend for most of the journey and only stirring occasionally to ask for more water. We touched down in Mumbai at 8pm and I was then kept waiting for several hours, while someone found someone to find someone else to clear my arrival and, eventually, to escort me to the transit hotel I’d been trying to get to since landing. I finally got to sleep in a windowless (yet, somehow, mosquito-infested) box of room – hired to me at the extortionate rate of US$50 – long after midnight, knowing I’d need to be up at 6 to check in for my Singapore Airlines flight to Singapore.
Breakfast was non-existent but I wasn’t unduly worried, as I knew I was about to board a plane belonging to one of the world’s best airlines. I was not disappointed. The female cabin crew were, to a woman, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous; the food was plentiful and graciously replenished; I never once had to ask for more juice or water as they constantly enquired before I’d finished; and the in-flight entertainment, leg-room and seat-cushioning were more than adequate.
We arrived in Singapore at 7pm (12pm UK time – I’d been on the go for 31 hours now) and, trusting to Singaporean efficiency, I’d booked myself on the only available train, which departed at 9. Once again, Singapore, did not let me down as I sailed through immigration, boarded a silent, pristine MRT (local version of the dirty, smelly tube) and was whisked effortlessly to the stop nearest the Malaysian Railways station. Someone kindly informed me (in excellent English) how to catch a bus to the station, for which I waited less than 5 minutes and I found myself ready to board my train by 7.50pm – less than an hour after arriving in the country! I had time to check out the renowned, local cuisine and, instead of a sweaty baguette with processed cheese (common fare at any railway station in the UK) I devoured delicious Lemon Chicken, Chilli Beef and fried rice for a shade under 5 quid.
I clambered aboard the train after an unbothered customs and immigration check and found my tidy little berth in a quiet carriage. Unfortunately, there was no going to sleep as heavy rains had washed away a bridge less than an hour up the track and we would be forced to disembark and catch a bus for an hour or so to get round the problem. Finally, around midnight, we were back on board and I slipped, thankfully into a fitful sleep – woken often by the clankings, bangings, hissings and joltings that are part and parcel of train journeys.
I was awake at 6 with no chance of dropping off again so I watched eagerly out of the window as we passed through thick jungle and the occasional small town. Every time I wandered up the carriage for a change of scenery or a visit to the loo, I was reminded of the benefit of my carriage’s air-con…it really was hot and sticky outside.
I’d asked the guard several times (to be sure) if he could let me know when to get off to get a taxi to the boat pier for the islands…and eventually, the time came. The place name looked unfamiliar and I was a little suspicious that I might be getting scammed – but the cab driver seemed to know exactly where I wanted to go and the fare he quoted was what I’d expected after reading Annie’s LP ten days before. The journey seemed to last forever – not helped by him stopping quite regularly to pick up packages and parcels to drop off along the way. When he finally pulled up outside a dodgy-looking place in the middle of nowhere, I really did think I’d been had, as it clearly wasn’t in the town I’d asked him to take me to. Sure enough, though, a woman came to the car showing me tickets for the boat to my destination and I realised that there had obviously been more than one option – both to get off the train at and to catch the boat from. Ticket purchased and with over an hour to kill, I went off in search of food and satisfied myself with some delicious chicken curry in a somewhat dilapidated but clean-looking little café.
The boat, when it left, was reasonably full – mostly with British travellers, although there was a French couple there with two, extremely cute little kids, who kept the rest of us amused by running rings around their parents’ attempts to stop them jumping out of the high-powered speedboat. Finally, I arrived on Long Beach of Perhentian Kecil at around 3pm (8am UK time, meaning a grand total of 51 hours travelling…woohoo!).
I was bloody knackered and not expecting Annie for another day, so happily rented out the first chalet I walked into…an ant-infested, shit-hole as it turned out but I was too knackered to care.
A little later on, I was just unlocking my room to get my kit and go for a shower, when a strange girl came bounding up to me, gabbling excitedly away. After a couple of seconds, I realised it was Annie, who’d had her hair put in tight braids while she was on Ko Pha Ngan, thus looking, at first glance, completely different. We were both really pleased to see each other and proceeded to fire an endless barrage of questions about our adventures since we’d last seen each other.
I’d had no intention of staying on the slightly-over-developed Long Beach once Annie had arrived (she had arrived on the right day…just my sleep-deprived brain getting confused!) but with it being a bit late in the day and one place already paid for, we decided to make the most of it and enjoy the amenities. I’d spotted a beautiful, secluded beach resort around the southern end of the island, where I intended to stay with her for at least a week, so we went out and enjoyed the range of bars and choice of restaurants, before retiring to our desert island hideaway.
She too had had a long, tiring journey from Thailand and it wasn’t particularly late when we went to bed. It was a shame we were both so tired as we were having a good time getting to know the guys from a dive-school – one of whom was on Annie’s boat over to the island and had invited us out for drinks and a pipe or two at Shish. Don’t worry mother – in this Muslim country, we weren’t smoking anything illegal, merely partaking in the age-old, social tradition of smoking a water pipe (shish), filled with delicious apple tobacco.
It was great to be back with Annie again – particularly on a white sand beach surrounded by crystal, clear water – and I fell asleep with a big smile on my face…little realising that the ants were chewing a sewing pattern into my lower legs and feet!! ;-)
Petani Beach from the boat as I went on to Long Beach
Palm shadows on pure, white sand and crystalline water
Braided Annie...with one hell of a smile!
Another island sunset
Tropical skies
