Anyway, this excursion encompassed 3 islands. As for the first, well you know there is a certain romance about islands, often even just the name. Say, Iona, Bali or Zanzibar for example. But not "Island of the Pregnant Lady." Its a decent sized lump of limestone (shaped, from a certain angle, like a pregnant woman lying on her back) covered in forest but its main feature is a freshwater lake in the middle. Now if you just landed, walked up the trail and then came down on this jungle-fringed lake it would be really impressive. Unfortunately they have added "facilities'. A large area of decking, a tourist shop for souvenirs and a host of little pedal-boats. And a roped-off area if you want to swim. But no-one there (I am guessing about 40 of us) used any of the facilities, other than just to sit on the deck and look out, although some of the younger ones had a quick plunge in the little swimming area. Photos don't really do it justice, because you get the rows of pedal-boats, or the ropes etc so don't really appreciate the exoticism or scale. And the boatman just said to us "You here one hour" in the sort of voice which suggested it was a sentence for drug-smuggling.
(I might at this point just digress by saying that loads of travel companies do these little island-hopping trips so there were at least three other small boats of various states of sea worthiness following this same itinerary at just slightly different times. Now anyone involved in the selling business will know the importance of stressing your unique selling point (or USP in the jargon). This is especially important when you don't have one. You know that, but the customers don't - and they are only going to use you once anyway. You just have to sound plausible. This comment is particularly targeted at the agent whose blurb trumpeted "guides well-speaking English." Maybe not actually your strong point. Another claimed to offer "Fishing and trolling." Actually this reminded me I had noticed lots of these comical bits of English the last time I was in Malaysia. Maybe this is the job to do - Malaysian proof-reader. Menus are obvious no-nos. Best so far is the Italian restaurant whose vegetarian (!) pizza apparently includes amongst its ingredients "aborigines." And even the posh brasserie which I ate at (very well) this lunch-time, while having an impeccable and very tempting printed menu, fell down on the old chefs special on the blackboard - "live tiger prawns drunken with white wine." Tempted though I was to watch a couple of crustaceans wobble uncertainly across my plate and throw up in my napkin, I settled on the sea-bass.)
So one hour by a lake with nothing to do but swim in an area smaller and less appealing than my hotel pools would have been a bit of a downer. Except that I got chatting to a young couple on one of the other identical trips (but about 5 minutes ahead on the staggered itineraries). She was an English dancer and he an Italian waiter. And they both lived in Australia. God I love globalisation. I really do. And they both used to work in London (he at the Ivy) and even had Polish friends down in Wood Green, ie a walk away from me. So instead of a dull hour I had a very nice chat while topping up the suntan.
Then back into boats to island two to watch the sea-eagles circling for a while, and then to island three, and left with the same "You here one hour" instruction as if from an episode of Tenko where the recipient is being left to suffer with scorpions under a pitiless sun in the jungle for having asked the Japanese commander for a second helping of rice and maggots. But here now we had a perfect little stretch of sandy beach. So strip down to the old swimming-trunks and in for a dip, and a further chat with my new-found chums who were of course there a few minutes ahead and already up to their necks in the warm water.
Now, if comparing holiday destinations, why come here rather than stay at home? Let me offer a viewpoint by comparing this to my most recent UK beach experience from about a month ago, Scarborough. Let's start with the sea. Its actually warm. You want to get in. Your toes immediately send out signals to the rest of your body to come and join them. Not work out whether you are best to edge in inch by inch as the freezing waters surround you or dive in and hope all your bodily functions don't break down in total shock. Having spent many visits as a kid to the North Sea I feel I should retrospectively put in a call to Social Services. We didn't of course have Childline when I was kid.
"I wish to report an incident of child-abuse in the 1970s. I , I was...was taken to.... Clacton."
"And? I know this must be difficult for you. Take it slowly."
"Yes, yes it is. And, and, I was made to go into those freezing brown waves."
"And...?"
"What do you mean "and"?! Isn't that enough? Okay, okay, and Southend. And even, oh god I can't bring myself to say it, (or at least pronounce it) Aberystwyth. Yes, the Irish Sea too. Wales as well as Essex. My parents were that cruel."
Ok, just supposing your kids do have blood with all the properties of anti-freeze, what else distinguishes this beach from Scarborough to merit the trip? Maybe the scattered piles of fast-food litter from Scarborough's many litter outlets (sorry, fast food vendors)? The more expensive beer (Scarborough not here)? The amusement arcades? The knots of bored pensioners huddling against the wind with their ice-creams? The palm trees (here, not Scarborough). The sun (ditto). The attractive, cosmopolitan company (ditto). Yeah, I give up, nothing really. Scarborough is marginally easier to get to, although obviously the traffic is worse. And some of the menus are better spelt. Some.
So, back in paradise, needless to say an hour shot by. Unlikely ever to bump into those two guys again, but have a nice life anyway.
Oh and another thing out here are the sunsets. Night before last was especially gorgeous. Have lots of photos, but they just don't do it justice. Cannot capture the sheer luminosity of the sky. You just sort of sigh, wander along the beach a bit further, and try another photo. Even without the sunset just wandering down the beach (and there is at least a couple of kilometres of it) is really pleasant. Wide, sandy, just enough human activity to be diverting, slightly cooling breeze. Indeed I was really intending, after a nice swim in the pool, to go back to my room, slip a t-shirt on and then get out with just the camera. But instead I just went straight on to the beach, had a little paddle and then started walking all the way to the end. And by the time I reached the end the sun was starting to set and the sky erupt in pink and orange. And I clicked away every few yards.
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