Borneo: Transition Day

We are going to look back at our time in Malaysian Borneo as an adventure trip. During our too brief, one week excursion, we had the opportunity to explore three of Earth's most diverse habitats- oceans, mountains and caves. I understand that this isn't exactly a major feat in and of itself. I am sure there are places all over the Oregon coast where you can visit, the Pacific, the Cascade range and caves all in a day, and each are probably spectacular in their own way. But where we chose to vacation the clear ocean was densely populated with marine life, the mountain featured the most spectacular view in Southeast Asia, and the caves were some of the biggest and most famous in the world.

I didn't go searching for adventure. Truth be told, I would love to spend the majority of my holiday lounging by the pool with a good book much in the same way I whittled away the hours in Fiji. Sami, however, got some wild hair about climbing Mt. Kinabalu, the highest peak in Southeast Asia. I reluctantly agreed not knowing that I would be admonished for even cracking open my paperback companion. (Note: This is a lie. I actually finished up David McCullough's biography of Harry S. Truman and read "The Sleeping Father"- a random airport find by Matthew Sharpe).

The one day where we were afforded a modicum of relaxation was Monday, the 20th. We had flown in Saturday night, the 18th and spent all of the next day out snorkeling off the coast of an island not far from our base of Kota Kinabalu. On Monday our schedule was free until the late afternoon when a van would pick us up from the hotel and drive us to the jump-off point of Mt. Kinabalu.  For the day, we decided to check out the beach to the south of town for most of the day, have lunch and maybe even a beer.

I woke up before 6:00 a.m. and turned on the laptop wirelessly connected to the internet to check out the scores of the NFL games presently taking place half a world away. I did not plan on rising so early, but since I moved to Asia over a year ago I have developed a separate internal alarm clock. This device only operates during the football season and seldom lets me down.

Can't nobody keep me away!

After an hour and a half of highlights, scores and stats, I ventured out of the room to pick up breakfast. Our modest accommodations provided coffee and toast, but I wanted something a little more substantial on this gloriously laid-back morning. I walked outside and next door to a Chinese-Malaysian restaurant and ordered two steamed buns that reminded me of the happy fare we had consumed on a rainy Shanghai morning not too long ago. The sticky, Wonderbread-like bun was filled with pork, a piece of boiled egg and sweet onions engulfed in a peppery gelatinous liquid. It reminded me of french onion soup which I love.

Doesn't look too appetizing but it's good!

Outside the wife and I had one of those arguments that tend to arise every time we find ourselves in a foreign country without a plan. As much as I romanticize freely trekking an unfamiliar land, I do admit that they can lead to stressful circumstances- especially with an empty stomach and low blood sugar. Our bellies were full on this occasion so maybe it was the strong Malaysian coffee (puts weak Korean kuh-pee water to shame) that sparked our tempers.

The problem was that we could not find a taxi and we felt like idiots walking around the same block time and time again getting stared at by locals pretending not to stare. I stepped into one taxi only to be informed by frantic hand gestures that it was being saved for someone else.

Finally we corraled a ride and by 10:30 found ourselves at the deserted beach south of town. The only other inhabitants were the employees of scattered bars and cafes preparing for opening. As they wiped down tables and dragged metal chairs along the concrete patio, Sami and I took turns surveying the sky for incoming planes and parasailers.

While Sami stayed and read, I walked across the parking lot to a public park. As I passed I took mental note of three men setting up a durian stand. I tried durian for the first time earlier in the year in Cambodia. At the time I wasn't able to decide if I enjoyed the "king of the fruits" or not, and thought that I may give it a second shot. Since Sami is the holder of the money I pressed on.

Durian stand

The baking hot pathway of the park meandered over a cloudy brown and lilly pad carpeted pond. I lazily walked along and peered into the murk. Schools of quick goldfish darted about. I soaked in the scene. The quiet, the bright blue sky and tall palms were so different from my everyday Korean life. The morning sun was hot, at least 90 degrees or whatever that is in degrees centigrade. I stood in the shade of a gazebo and spotted a small, orange streaked turtle swimming amongst the leaves. I reached for the camera and, noticing it was gone, sprinted back toward Sami. When I told her I saw a turtle and needed to take a picture she hardly seemed moved. Still, I convinced her that the park was worth trading for a few minutes with the last of the Steig Larsson novels. She placed the bookmark and dutifully followed.

The park

The pond.

The turtle.

Back at the pond the turtle was naturally gone. Sami beckoned. She was hungry, but I was determined to reunite with my amphibious friend. Amazingly, it made another appearance. I snapped picture after picture of the little guy as he hungrily swam closer. Sami grew impatient and took the camera away thinking that I would follow. She walked ahead a few yards as I stumbled behind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a giant rock that didn't quite look like a rock. I looked at the rock and the rock slid into the water. Holy shit it was a giant turtle! I silently squealed and motioned for Sami to bring me the camera but it was gone, lost in the green and the brown of the constructed pond. I spent the next 15 to 20 minutes waiting for the turtle to re-emerge, but my efforts only resulted in an increasingly perturbed wife. After giving up my last scrap of hope, I jogged to her and toward the restaurant.

We sat in the empty restaurant overlooking the sea. I ordered a caiparina even though I wanted a chocolate milkshake because I like the sound of the word caiparina, Sami ordered a chocolate milkshake and didn't share. For lunch I had Nasi Lemak which I have read is the national dish of Malaysia. It featured beef, salted and dried anchovies, chicken and potatoes, cucumber, roasted peanuts, coconut rice and a boiled egg. It cost the equivalent of $1.50 USD.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

Nasi Lemak

After, while Sami was distracted, I wandered back toward the durian stand. I purchased one small fruit for 2 ringet, or the equivalent of about 66 cents- downright cheap compared to the outrageous price I paid the first time in Cambodia (in my mind I am thinking it was $15, but that can't be right). I sat down and ate it. I had always said that you need to eat durian on an empty stomach and yet here I was, sucking it down while full of at four different proteins. I will never forget that taste of warm, cream corn and onion custard. I think I like it even more now and can't wait to get more.

Afterward, our plan was to catch a taxi back to the hotel in time to rest for an hour or two before the van came to pick us up for Mt. Kinabalu. The problem, once again, was that we couldn't find a taxi. We waited and waited outside a roped off area labeled "TAXI," but none came. Eventually, someone pointed us in the right direction up the road. Three quarters of a mile later we found ourselves across the intersection from the airport when a ride finally yielded. We happily got inside and unburdened our backpacks from us. Our driver was a thin man with a tiny mustache and funny voice. The nails on his pinkie fingers were ridiculously long. I decided I liked him and took pictures of the quirky trinkets on the dashboard- a plastic frog on a swing, a Japanese cartoon toy with a maniacal grin and a meditating Hindu god.

These trinkets nearly caused a tragedy!

Our driver didn't speak much English. He handed me a cell phone and had me talk to his supervisor who spoke even less. Somehow I was able to communicate that our hotel was near the "Asian City" part of downtown and he drove us through crowded back alleys to a lot near our hotel. As I got out the driver asked for 25 ringet. I told him that it had only cost me 15 ringet to get from the hotel to the beach but, remembering his English, he explained that since it was near the airport it was airport rates. By this time Sami had exited the taxi and I was left aggravated and willing to settle for 20 ringet. I walked across the lot and one way street to the median and met my wife. I expressed my frustration with having to haggle and then a stinging realization pierced inside of my chest.

"Do you have the camera?" I asked.

"No."

"I left it in the cab."

For a millisecond I chastised myself for being so careless and then, out of sheer adrenaline, I began running. The camera was lost, this I already knew. I was only going to get a slight workout sprinting and dodging through traffic the way I was. In a place so densely populated with cars, there was no way I would find it. I ran in and around parked and idled vehicles and at the end of the parking lot, waiting for an opening in traffic, I saw the taxi. I looked in and recognized a hint of a mustache, a sliver of a fingernail. There the weaselly little bastard was. I knocked twice on the rear passenger side door quickly and confidently, opened it and grabbed the camera. I smiled and gave a wink while he cackled and gave me the thumbs up.

I turned and walked back to Sami. For the first time all trip, I could sense that she was proud of me. She was happy that we would be able to document our time hiking the biggest mountain and largest caves of Southeast Asia. I was just happy to have saved the pictures of the turtle.