19.01.14
Sadly I was coming to the end of my Bornean vacation. I had returned to Kota Kinabalu (which I love) for my final night before returning home. I snuck out of the hostel for a farewell cocktail. And found myself in El Centro.
It’s a bit western and filled slightly too predominantly with westerners (unsurprisingly). But it sells a mighty fine daiquiri, which I demolished contentedly.
Farewall Borneo.
18.01.14
Today I found myself on the beautiful island of Pulau Mantanani and staying at Mari Mari Backpackers. Mantanani is a stereotypically idyllic tropical island, exactly as you imagine it right now.
Throughout the day’s snorkelling/sunbathing activity I met an amazing couple of Germans. Simon and Tini. They were awesome, and it was Simon’s birthday. So that evening I obviously insisted on having a beer with them.
We sat under the wooden awning, us three and Angie, and talked about stuff I can’t remember. It was grand.
If I met people with as much social worth as them every day I would be a happy man.
A very happy man.
16.01.14
DAY 100 MOTHERFUCKERS!
For this ground breaking drinkattack I was sipping a cold beer at Manana, watching the sun set over the open ocean.
Manana is an isolated tropical resort off the coast near Kota Belud in Borneo. Accessible only by boat, it is the only place to see in the next drinkattack century. Bring on the next 100!
13.01.14
In Lahad Datu, a nothing-of-note kind of place, I needed a daytime beer while waiting for a bus. I went to an interesting little chicken restaurant, open-plan with small plastic tables. At the front of the restaurant on the pavement an old lady had a ramshackle chef set-up. Gas bottles in open air heading to a hob with a wok full of boiling oil. Into the oil she would thrust an entire chicken, boil it, then pull it out. She would then hack it into strips with a massive meat cleaver and dexterously slide it onto a plate. It was impressive. Unfortunately I wasn’t hungry, so I just got a can of Heineken.
The lady taking my order seemed pretty unimpressed that I wasn’t ordering food. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated her eyebrows. If not food then a platter of beer? 6 cans for only 20 ringgit? She was even less impressed at my further refusal, and turned to comment as such to the chicken lady.
The beer was delicious and cold, perfect in the baking midday heat. Angry lady ended up having a long and pleasant conversation with me. She was actually quite nice.
After my beer I had a long trip to the heart of the jungle. The jungle of Danum Valley. It was here I did many treks and saw many animals. But the only thing of relevance to drinkattack was sitting on the research centre veranda, looking over the rainforest at night, drinking a chilled can of 3 Amigos lager. It was grand.
10.01.14
I found myself in Semporna. Semporna is a diving mecca. People travel from all the world to dive there. But I was too scared so I snorkelled instead.
After a day’s heavy snorkelling I needed a drink, and popped into the Scuba Junkie bar for a cold beverage.
This bar would generally be too western for my liking, but it has a great vibe, and that night a live band. So really I quite like it. A guilty pleasure.
I grabbed a bottle of Tiger, at £2.50 expensive for Malaysia but dirt cheap compared to the 99% of places I ever drink. I love Asia.
On scouting around I saw Rekha sat at a table. So I wandered over to join her. Rekha is quite possibly my favourite person to have ever met travelling. So chilled it is effortless to be in her company. If you go travelling, be chilled.
She had a load of books in front of her but I thought nothing of it and plonked myself down. It soon turned out, as her dive instructor and buddy arrived, that they were in the middle of a diving course lesson. And I had sat myself bang in the centre of it. They seemed non-plussed however, and progressed admirably. Of course I piped up with entirely irrelevant and naively useless comments wherever necessary.
Once they were done Rekha and I had a good old chat, discussing orangutan crabs and other serious matters. If only every day were this easy.
09.01.14
Having recovered from my night of jungle fever I found myself with two options. I could either continue my travels down south to Semporna, or journey with the awesome Dutch couple I met at Uncle Tan’s for relaxation and recuperation. Of course I chose the latter. And this turned out to be a very good choice indeed.
Shortly after checking into my dodgy dormitory in the city of Sandakan I got a text from Maurice. He and Debbie were confident they could smuggle me into their hotel swimming pool. I jumped with joy and ran on over.
And boy was it good. Not only was it a pool. It was an infinity pool. Overlooking all of Sandakan and its archipelago. It had sun loungers and towels and everything you could possibly want. And to top it all off, after a soul replenishing swim, Maurice visited the rooftop bar and bought us all beers.
We lay on our sun loungers, overlooking the ocean, sipping at ice cold beers.
The perfect remedy to three days in the jungle.
08.01.14
My second day at Uncle Tan’s included a number of boat trips and a day and a night trek.
On the day trek I was in a group with the Swedes, which was fortunate – as they had magnificent memories. Lan was our guide through the rainforest, and on the way he taught us the names of every item of foliage we saw. Which in the jungle, as I’m sure you can imagine, is a fuck load of foliage. At the end of the trek he quizzed the group on the names of said flora. I knew none, and the Swedes knew them all. This resulted in us winning a hamper. A hamper of rice wine.
After our afternoon boat trip we cracked it open and everyone indulged. In minutes I was fucking mashed. We were all sitting round a long table having a civilised conversation. Everyone else was entirely unaffected. But I was so mashed I could barely speak. I sat there dumbly staring around at the now incomprehensible world I had discovered. It was then dinner time. At which point the situation got worse. As we all sat there in close proximity eating from our plates I somehow, inexplicably managed to slide my entire plate off the table and onto the floor. It was as thought it was possessed. It drifted by no account of mine to the edge and propelled itself onto my lap. The girls either side of me looked on in horror as I floundered around trying to find a swift solution to such an embarrassing situation. But my mind was clouded by the dreaded rice wine. Jungle fever had taken control.
I jumped out of my seat and dashed to the bar.
“Do you have a dustpan and brush!?” I erupted from my vocal passage. But the stunned Malays didn’t know what I was trying to say. I flailed around blindly, trying to spot the answer to my terrible situation. Fortunately Debbie, who was sitting next to me at the table, calmly called over:
“Bring over a plate!”
She had to say it a number of times before it registered. I grabbed a plate and placidly passed it over. She scooped the food up in a matter of seconds. Crisis over. Needless to say that was enough drink for me.
Until the night trek. On which the Swedes cleverly/foolishly brought a bottle of cheap Malaysian brandy. Wandering through the primary rainforest in pitch black darkness we sipped brandy from the bottle, getting progressively more intoxicated.
And how we laughed!
07.01.14
Today I found myself in the depths of the Bornean jungle. A couple of hours up the Kinabatangan River at Uncle Tan’s.
Uncle Tan’s is an utterly idyllic ramshackle resort in the deepest recesses of the heart of darkness. It is a small mesh of stilted huts connected by elevated boardwalks (one of which entirely collapsed beneath me at a later date – but I had been drinking). The huts are ultra basic, small open wooden structures with a couple of mattresses on the floor. All that sits between you and the jungle fauna is a flimsy mosquito net surrounding your sleeping pad. It is incredible.
On arrival to the site, and having had a pleasant welcome talk by the site manager character that is Tan, the group that had arrived that day acquainted ourselves with the other guests. This of course included a few beers.
In the new group were two British people, two Dutch, six New Zealanders, and six Swedish. The previous day’s arrivals consisted of only two Finnish lads and a Spanish couple. An eclectic mix one might say. Whilst being serenaded with live music from the Uncle Tan residents we had a good old beer and a getting-to-know-you chat before heading out on a night boat safari.
Having arrived back, and knackered at 10pm everyone went to bed so I grabbed myself a beer and acquainted myself with Tan and the tour guides. Tan was in the process of giving Dis a pep talk on the importance of interacting with the tourists, and the significance of rapport. It was particularly endearing to watch.
06.01.14
I had made my merry way to the jungle outskirts at Sepilok in order to see some orangutans. Obviously this was an exhausting day, so after an afternoon nap I joined a couple of my dorm room bussies for a couple of beers. We were staying at Paganakan Dii, an amazing little safe haven hidden amongst the trees and away from the main road. The barely concreted entry slope was so steep and bumpy I had been surprised I’d even made it in the ramshackle local bus. But I was there, staying in a long wooden dormitory, built on stilts and accommodating 20 people. The only thing between the sleeper and the jungle were slats of wood and the mosquito-proof mesh in between.
So myself, Catherine from Canada and a chap from London who’s name I can’t remember wandered down to the open air wooden seated bar/dining area.
We drank a few tiger beers and talked about general shit. As the noise of the jungle erupted around us in the coming darkness.
Mikey's Escapades 