So this is coming from an unexpected location, even for me. In fact, from an unexpected country altogether! A little over a week ago, I was in the south of Thailand, contentedly moseying towards another beach in a little-known national marine park on the southwest coastline. This place was reputed to be isolated, beautiful, and great for snorkeling - basically more of the same, just in a different locale - and I was looking forward to it. And then in my hostel I met (in addition to another couple of Montanans from Great Falls, of all places) Danny Gleeson from County Derry, also on a bike and also taking 8 or so months to travel around Asia. (What is it about the 8 months number? Everyone I've encountered travelling alone around here is travelling for 8 months. Is that the amount of time most people figure they can handle alone before they suffer a nervous breakdown? Seems plausible to me...) We got along pretty well as we had a lot in common (both of us being Brits with a tendency to mumble inaudibly while speaking) and decided to ride together for a little while the next day, as we were both heading in the same direction (south). It was interesting riding: we cruised side by side once we got out of town, trying to communicate but mostly just trading "what's?" and "huh's?" back and forth endlessly, due to a combination of wind noise and our mumbling. Never before has so much been said and so little understood. I don't think either of us have ever done so much nodding and smiling agreeably while thinking "What the hell did he just say?"! Anyway, short story longer, I decided to ride to the border with him (another 2 hours away) in order to renew my Thailand visa, which you can do by simply exiting and immediately re-entering the country. Arriving at the border, I then made a snap decision and agreed to ride with him in Malaysia for a few days, giving us both a chance to chase away the lonely blues for a little while, as well as me seeing a bit of another country. Hence my being in a totally unexpected (though not unwelcome) country.

Well, one thing led to another, and now its been almost a week since I crossed over to the dark side. Seriously - Malaysia is interesting, don't get me wrong. But it is somehow so different from Thailand, even though they share a common (and pretty relaxed) border. The people are more western; the roads more modern and well-maintained; the landscape is denser, greener, and more forbidding; the religion is more strict; and the laws more draconian. I'm sure by now most people have heard how Malaysia routinely applies the death penalty to drug traffickers - its no joke. We were warned by road signs and customs forms a multitude of times before and after entering the country. I half expected to see the last mile of Thai road leading up to the border littered with baggies and pill bottles, as people read the signs and then panicked, scrambling to get rid of anything that might possibly be (mis)interpreted as evidence of drug dealing. And there are also anti-sedition laws that are regularly enforced: the newspaper today carried a report of two police officers charged with "spreading rumors" about possible riots in a remote part of the country. Let me not take my freedoms for granted!

This part of Malaysia really is the jungle, as much the word was ever meant to describe. Rolling hills and endless views of thick tree canopies. Frequent rain showers that do so much for the abundant plant life (and are so welcomed by us on those blazingly hot hill climbs). Grasses and shrubs that have to be continually trimmed to prevent their rapid encroachment onto the highway. Huge, almost cylindrical, limestone karsts projecting vertically out of the countryside like tree-capped bones. (The trees sometimes even envelop the vertical sides.) The occasional new town or development strips the trees and gouges the earth, leaving behind concrete blocks surrounded by orange-red soil that seem to have little or no chance of ever blending in with the surroundings. But they're soon closely bordered again by the unstoppable plant life. You get the sense that, if man ever left this place, the plants would completely reclaim it within 6 months, a year tops.

After a couple of days of this, we turned off the highway and started climbing into the hills leading towards the Cameron Highlands, an old hill station now used for growing tea and attracting tourists. Fifty kilometers (and 4 hours) of climbing later, we plateau'd out onto a, well, a plateau, I suppose. Small mountains surround a flatter area (the plateau) consisting of a few thousand acres of rolling hills and tea plantations, and more than a few hotels and hostels clustered within 3 little towns. We were met on the road in town by Gil, an ultra-friendly yet really low-key representative from a cool hostel, who guided us to his place and introduced us by name to the thirty or so other guests lounging around there without forgetting a single name. Interesting guy, he also busked in Switzerland for 4 years before returning here to help run the place. That evening (as in every subsequent one here) he entertained us all with guitar playing and singing around the hostel bonfire, going until either the clock struck midnight or he got too drunk to find the chords. The clock usually won - guess Gil's been doing this for a while!

Two nights ago, Danny and I decided to risk the short (yet fiercely heavy and totally unpredictable) rain showers and camp at the top of one of the highest peaks around that we could ride to. I'd picked up a combination hammock/mosquito net in Thailand and planned on sleeping in it again - the first time had been under an overpass bridge our first night in Malaysia. (Fairly comfortable, especially after a Malaysian-brewed Guinness or three...) But this would really be putting it to the test, should the rains hit. Fifteen kilometers of uphill later, we literally squeezed between the trees and vines into the jungle on the side of a ridge that gave us magnificent views of the surrounding areas, including a wild sunset and distant lightening storm. Hammocks up and sleeping bags spread (the temp can drop to 40F at night here), we set about building a campfire and discovered two basic jungle truths: 1) you can't start a fire with wet wood, and 2) in the jungle, EVERYTHING is wet! I don't think even a gallon of gas would've helped here. We briefly considered burning spare bike tires and tubes - next time we'll ditch the inessentials, like food and water (who gets thirsty when you can just lick the dew off your bike) and bring our own firewood bundles and kerosene. After night fell, we also discovered one final truth: we weren't in Kansas anymore! In Kansas (or just about any other place I can think of) THE PLANTS DON'T GLOW AT NIGHT! Here, the bamboo is covered with a phosphorescent slime or some other substance that emits a soft bluish glow visible from several yards away. Spooky as hell at first, but entertaining later on. Once the earplugs were in place to block out the unknown night noises(what you can't hear can't hurt you, I figure) I slept pretty well. And our luck held - no rain. The next morning yielded an incredible sunrise over the mist-coated mountains, after which we spent a couple of hours slipping and sliding over mossy tree roots up and down a less-used trail looking for spitting cobras. Again our luck held - we didn't find any. (Damn this boring good luck!)

So tomorrow Danny and I part ways: he to head further south towards Indonesia (just in time for the latest riots and rebel burnings, I figure) and me for more of the remote jungle scene, this time in northen Thailand. Ater that I'll head to Laos - I'm in the mood for more rustic and less touristy places, though I've gotta admit you can't get much more rustic than a hammock in the middle of the jungle. In the end, I'll probably miss out on seeing any more Thai beaches. But the tradeoff was a good one, I think.

All the best,

Mark