Part 2

The notion that failed to hit me while nursing blood-sucker wounds was the pathway out of the jungle. Biting our tongues, we trudged through the swampy trails and arrived back at the headquarters where we stocked up on the vitals: Toilet Paper, Cockroach Spray and Cigarettes. As we had no time to attempt the hike to the farthest hide we bought ourselves a boat taxi to a landing about 2km from the bunks. It was meant to be a little more than 45 minute hike, but it seemed that we were unaware of the two river crossings that were less than pleasant looking. Knowing that leeches would be found in the most private of places after a fording of the brown murkiness that lay before us, we sent Dylan ahead to scramble for precarious crossings. Success.

Now to avoid myself some anguish in recalling this episode, I think I'll just say that I met the most obnoxious and inconsiderate people ever... they were Dutch if that matters to you, it just surprised me... I used to like Dutch people. Basically, they hiked out to the middle of the Malaysian jungle to talk the entire time and scare away all the animals everyone else went out there for in the first place.

It was no more rude than the Australian woman who woke at the break of dawn to spray herself down with cockroach spray to protect from leeches. It made the whole place stink and gave us all headaches, but I hate to imagine what happened to her after she aimed that can towards her face. Probably dead, probably deserved it.

I unfortunately fell asleep while the Dutch kept yapping, but Dylan was lucky enough to have seen a jungle cat beneath the hide. The hike back the next day was excruciating and difficult. I nearly fainted because I was stupid enough to have forgotten my water bottle at the jungle hide. I've done a lot of hikes and I got thoroughly worked by this 5 hour hike, thoroughly.

Malaysia was followed by the utterly flabbergasting wealth that a dollar will do for you in Bali. Oh. My. God. Relaxation at it's finest.

Part 1
After the sun-scorching, beach-bumming, beer-induced haze that cleared from our minds as we entered the strict atmosphere of the Muslim nation of Malaysia, we gathered our thoughts and realized that the only sensible thing to do after obscurring our memories of southern Thailand was to enter the jungle of Taman Negara.

Taman Negara is an 135 Million year old rain forest. I don't have time to check my facts, but one of the many liars that we encountered informed us that it was the oldest rainforest in the world... then I heard him say second... then I think he said third. But maybe that was due to the lack of blood running through my body, which I'll get to in a minute.


Reading about the place and bouncing our attitudes about adventure off each other, it was decided by the collective that we just get ourselves into the jungle and figure it out from there. We aimed to catch a tour bus to the jetty and then take the longtail boat to the epicenter dubbed Kuala Tahan. Dubious planning by Evan with regards to the alarm led us to believe that we'd missed our bus, sleep passed, sense invaded and upon realizing our mistake, we bolted for the door only to be hassled by the stoned clerk who kept giving us completely inaccurate change and then a smart-ass, bug-eyed scoundrel who tried to tout his service as the best to get to Taman Negara. We ended up taking his service ONLY because it happened to be the same one; that guy's face still gives me the willies.

We made it to the jetty and onto the boat. It was a little hum-dinger that hauled us upriver at lightning speed (2 hour journey). As we scanned the banks looking for animals I couldn't help but recall the visual imagery of Apocalypse Now and make the comparison to our voyage into the heart of the Malaysian Jungle. The rain that fell on our heads was a light mist, but gradually turned into the stereotypical pounding of "Monsoon Season". When we arrived to the travel guide's floating office, they brought to our attention that they had forgotten to give us our entry permits... but I believe the conversation with Dylan went something like this:

Lady: You forgot your entry permit?
Dylan: I have EVERYTHING that the guy at the jetty gave me.
Lady: You forgot your entry permit, I know.
Dylan: Actually, I bought it and he never gave it back to me.
Lady: We know you forgot it, it's ok, they're running it up here in a couple hours.
Dylan: I didn't forget, you guys screwed up.
Lady: It's ok that you forgot, just wait here.

Our second liar in a matter of minutes was the guy that tried to get us on the tours. We told him we would stay at a hide tonight and he asked which one. We informed him that we haven't booked it yet since we just arrived. We told him which one's we wanted to go to, and he told us we couldn't go there without a guide. LIAR!


NOTE: If you ever go to Taman Negara and don't want to go with a group of diet-coke drinking, squimish-looking, polo-wearing yuppies, then don't give into the lure of the guides. It's real simple to just get off the dock and ask any local looking fellow. There are lot's of free-lancers that need some work and even if you don't want a guide, you can just follow your instincts and scramble your way down the paths to hides, just book them ahead of time with the Wildlife Department.

Anyway, we set out to a close hide for the night which we had to ourselves. If there is one thing I learned about the Jungle it's this: Leeches are everywhere! It was halfway into our walk as the sun was setting upon us in the ever-intensifying cacophony of night horrors that we decided to see if we'd been latched onto yet by the blood-suckers. We started pulling them off with lightning quick percision plucking from our shoes, pants, socks and skin. It wasn't until our arrival at our destination did we take off our clothes and realize that we were covered. Essentially, we were completely unprepared to enter the jungle. My socks were too bloody to keep, our clothes were soaked in sweat from the humidity and everything else about us was muddy.

Apparently the best way to remove leeches is to burn them off with a cigarette. The problem with that method is that you can only do it once they have sucked enough blood out of you so as to do it without burning yourself. I found that the bleeding never stopped because of the venom they inject to keep your blood from coagulating. So I took the liberty of thinning my blood with the cigarette to get that vile biochemical out. Then to stop the bleeding, if it really bothers you, is to take some of the cigarette ash and shove it in your wounds. I questioned the sanitary practices, but the man assured me that I would not get infected. I'll believe anybody when they're holding a burning cigarette next to my skin. I'm not sure if that helped at all; I ruined several pairs of socks regardless. I'm pretty sure that I hate nothing more than leeches.


We stayed up that night to see some animals, but the views were poor and all we saw were eyes in a tree and some geckos. It was the next day that proved a little more successful for us.

to be continued...

It's amazing how long 24 hours in Bangkok can last. I'm tired. You get nothing. Zilch. Here are my words of wisdom: If you ever get the chance to go to Kuala Lampur, don't take it. The difference between 24 hours in Bangkok and Kuala Lampur are staggering.