Well, immediately after my last post I went and played volleyball with aforementioned Swedes on an idyllic tropical beach, beer in hand (half the time). It rolled into one EPIC party - I finally made it to bed at 7am the next morning!
It was a blur of friendly faces, guitars and singing, bonfires on the beach, and yes, more pier jumping at stupid o'clock (although I kept my clothes AND shoes on this time!).
Apparently I learnt a bit of Swedish - none of which I remember. The only words I know are narken bada and erl. Which, I'm told, is about all I need to know in Swedish. They mean naked swimming and beer. I'm told Sara also taught me you have beautiful eyes, but my brain decided that with all that occurred that night that it didn't have room to remember such things.
The next day was all about one word.
Hangover.
When you have a hangover, it's the only word that enters your mind. Ok, that and a few choice expletives and empty promises to never let it happen again.
Yesterday, Monday, I woke up early to the deafening roar of the tail-end monsoonal rains thrumming on the tin roof of my little chalet. I tried several times to pack my bag. It took about 3 hours with several wisely-timed lie-downs dotted throughout. No, I didn't drink on Sunday. It was still little demons running around in my head and stomach from Saturday night.
After spending some time treating my feet, I finally managed to check out and find my beloved group of 13 crazy Swedes. Actually, two had already left the island, but that's neither here nor there.
Right until the last minute I ummed and ahhed about staying or leaving, but after such deliberation, I boarded the boat, despite a roomful of protesting Swedes. In the end, the lack of an atm at Salang (which, by the way, is the nicest part of Tioman) was starting to annoy me, but most importantly, I needed to get my poor sliced and diced feet away from sand and coral for awhile.
3 hours on a boat and then 5 truly harrowing hours on a rickety bus with busted seats and I arrived in Kuala Lumpur about 11.30pm last night. Seriously, the bus driver deserved a kick in the head!
*Note: Anyone reading this who thinks travel insurance isn't necessary has not been subjected to the life-threatening 'driving' of some of the public transport officers around the world. Pucker factor was at the extreme. I smelt my own fear. I very, very seriously contemplated leaving the bus in the middle of the night who cares WHERE, despite my feet! Everyone else just shut their eyes and pretended to sleep. I'm sure they were actually praying. To every god known to man. Twice.
If you think miracles don't exist, get on a bus with that guy and somehow live. Someone was watching over me last night! Oh, and the two Canadian lads I met who also were waiting for the bus.
Anyway, it's off to find a laundry. And a hotel. I'm splurging tonight. For about $20 Australian, I can get a hotel. It's a done deal. Catch ya later.
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