Archive for February, 2006
Port Blair, India, March 28, 2004 - India’s remote and spectacular Andaman islands, unexploited jewels in the Bay of Bengal, have flung open their shores to tourism with the first international air links from Bangkok.
The enchanting tropical archipelago of 572 islands — nearly half of them unnamed and only 38 inhabited — are blessed with miles of white-sand beaches, lush rainforests, world-class diving, sea-swimming elephants and a rich variety of animal species.
But as investors and tour operators aim to stake a claim to some of the globe’s last pristine beaches and diving sites, environmentalists are worried that the fragile islands cannot endure a tourism onslaught.
Developers and the government are being urged to strike a balance between preservation and progress, as the Indian government touts tourism as the islands’ economic salvation.
“These charter flights can be a trigger to open up these islands,” said developer Samit Sawhny, who heads upstart Indian firm Barefoot Group, which put together the Bangkok-Port Blair charters that began this month.
The firm, which has enlisted small Thai carrier PB Air to fly the route, is spearheading the charge for controlled, high-value tourism development.
“We want to be as sustainable as possible,” Sawhny told AFP. “The Andamans have incredible potential, but at the same time there are a lot of environmental concerns.”
Several other constraints on the island chain, 1,200 kilometres (745 miles) from mainland India but only 500 kilometres (310 miles) from Thailand’s largest resort island Phuket, are putting pressure on the tourism industry.
The sleepy capital Port Blair serves as an Indian navy base, and security is tight, with travel to the Nicobar islands, south of the Andamans but in the same union territory, forbidden for foreigners.
Infrastructure is severely lacking outside Port Blair. Ferry services are slow, and the government has shut the main road linking Port Blair to the northern end of the archipelago as it abuts the protected territory of the indigenous Jarawa tribe.
Last year, according to official figures, the islands saw 94,000 Indian visitors, mainly government employees on leave allowance, and just 4,200 foreign tourists, the mostly backpackers.
That demographic must change if the Andamans are to prosper, developers and officials said, as backpackers, or so the argument goes, put far fewer dollars than wealthier tourists into the pockets of locals, while their aggressive pursuit of some untouched paradise puts the entire ecology at risk.
“Low-value tourists take away rather than contribute to the islands, and that’s not the direction the administration wants to go forward with. It wants premium, high-value tourists,” said Barefoot’s Ashish Gupta.
The Maldives, the exotic island nation southwest of Sri Lanka, have been successfully marketed along these lines as a luxury destination.
But while paying lip-service to the need to preserve the Andaman ecosystem, officials are enthusiastically embracing a future tourism boom.
The Andamans’ secretary for tourism and tribal areas, Anbarasu, who goes by one name, in an interview with AFP rattled off a list of goals for the islands that could raise the hackles of ecologists.
Plans are afoot, he said, to introduce jet skiing and parasailing, develop beaches used by nesting leatherback turtles, relax Indian law to allow for development within 50 metres of the sea instead of the current 200 metres, set up tree-top cottages in protected forests, and launch water safaris.
“The day is not too far in which we’ll get the green light from the government for this,” Anbarasu said.
Critics say Indian authorities, business leaders and Thai diplomats are pushing to turn the Andamans into another Phuket, prompting the signing last year of a sister cities agreement between the Thai island and Port Blair.
But environmentalists wince at the prospect of Phuket’s sleazy bars and massive tourist intake being replicated in the Andamans.
“I am not against tourism, but I have a problem with uncontrolled tourism, and the administration is not ready to handle that,” said Harry Andrews, who heads the Andaman and Nicobar Islands Environmental Team (ANET).
“It really can have a negative impact.”
ANET has submitted a draft plan urging restricted access to the Andamans by keeping charters to a minimum and focusing on sustainable high-end tourism.
But PB Air is seeking to expand beyond charters, to as many as three scheduled flights per week from Bangkok on a 50-seat Embraer Jet 145 aircraft.
Until now, the islands have been accessible only from Madras and Calcutta, via expensive domestic flights or cheap but gruelling four-day cargo boat rides.
“This is a foot in the door, and when we get our permit it will only be a matter of time before the Indian government approves scheduled flights,” said PB Air president Jothin Pamon-Montri.
On formerly pristine Havelock island, the strains of development are already showing. Ramshackle bamboo and concrete huts have been erected just 20 metres from the high tide line, and construction crews are busy sealing more roads.
“The Andamans is on a cusp, just waiting to dive into tourism, but it’s not really sure how to go about it,” said Lynda Jacob, who with her Indian husband manages the eco-minded Wild Orchid resort.
“They have great development potential. The question is, who is going to do it and do it the right way?”
February 28th, 2006
For sand and sun lovers, food lovers, party lovers and for people who wants to fall in-love, Puerto Galera gives you the easiest access to a perfect summer getaway. This island is deeply scalloped with snorkeling spots and coves edged in powdery white sand, the islands inviting coastline will give you a charming atmosphere you always dreamed of.
Situated on the northern peninsula of Mindoro island, approximately 160km from Manila, Puerto Galera (Port of Galleon) was an excellent port for Spanish Galleons seeking refuge from heavy storms and typhoons. Now that the Galleon days are over, the island become a world class diving spot and a perfect get away for anyone who shows interest in outdoor activities. Trekking high up over the sea-front hills shows vistas of sandy cove after sandy cove fading into the horizon. But the greatest attraction of this island cannot be seen from here. More than twenty world-class dive sites await those willing to put their heads under water, and the nationalities of the diving instructors reflect the main visitors; Americans, Europeans and Australians tend to dominate the diving stations around Puerto Galera. The cost of vacationing and diving is as good as it gets and beginners can qualify inexpensively on a three-day course. The scuba diving season in Puerto Galera is year-round, and going under water can be a good way to escape any rain.
The Trip
It was early morning of Thursday when I left Manila to catch up with the first trip to Puerto Galera via Batangas Port. It has been always in my plan to travel during evening for long trips and early morning for short trips, practically to avoid the traffic in the metropolis. Upon reaching White Beach, it took me fifteen minutes to reach New Encenada Beach Resort, located at Sitio Pandangan, the resort offers a different Puerto Galera experience, no beach vendors, no roving masseurs, only turquoise waters nestled in the famous encenada cove. Unspoiled and uncrowded, Endcenada Beach Resort is the place to get away from it all. The beach here, arguably the best in Puerto Galera, is almost one hectare of nice designed cottages, dive shop, restaurant, souvenir shop and beach volleyball court. Encenada means a protected place; true to its name, the beach itself is a complete island destination where you can be treated like a god.
On the second day, I met Joey, the jolly and gay all around majordomo of the resort, he brought me to the poblacion by a fifteen-minute walk by the seashore. The resort staff’s are all nice, a living proof of the famous Filipino hospitality. The place is more of a garden and the beach is just another unusual surprise. Imagine a sunrise in a beautiful veranda, surrounded by various species of palm trees and colorful flora that gives a vista of a beautiful and exotic hideaways, truly; stumbling upon this beach was serendipity at its finest. Now tell me, who needs the Caribbean?
The New Encenada Beach Resort may not be a five-star resort but its ambiance is more of a home, giving you the feel of being in Boracay a couple of decades ago. No noisy night bars, no internet but mobile phone connections are excellent. During night, the overlooking veranda type of restaurant offers not so expensive freshly cooked local foods. There are 42 rooms available, composed of ten nipa hut and thirty-two concrete cottages located in the main building. For underwater explorers, there is an in-house dive shop with professional dive instructors to guide you to the coral gardens just of shore and in the marine reserve of Varadero Bay. If you like island hopping you can hire a motorized banca and explore the nearby beaches or you may walk along the beach to reach the town center for gift shops, internet cafes and a couple of restaurants.
On my third day, I met Christina Fuentebella, the charming owner of the resort. She managed the resort for almost fifteen years in partnership with an Australian lawyer. She prepared me a jigger of “Mindoro Sling”, their in-house specialty mixed drink, thus heaven begins. Live acoustic bands are performing in the restaurant every Friday and Saturday night, singing romantic love songs and reggae, a la Jamaica nights. On my last evening I’m beginning to love the place like a home, walking around the shore alone sounds lonely with the crystalline night sky like a trespassing constellation. The stars are thick upon my head. I’ve spent the entire trip by myself, it’s all about resting like you never did before, and the serene coolness that comes with being alone but not lonely has settled into my body. I’ve stopped listening and observing my mobile phone, and even though I’m wandering in completely different environment, I feel no danger. Still, if I were part of a honeymooner couple right now, I’d head right off this secret cove and sneak onto the beach to re-create another travel tale, this time more romantic. Oh well, next time.
Getting There
More economical are the commercial buses of BLTB, JAM and TRITRAN. Bus terminals can be found in Cubao, and in Buendia in Pasay City. Schedules of these buses are quite erratic, but the earliest bus usually leaves at 6AM and every hour from then on (depending on the volume of passengers). Fare on these buses range from Php 80 to 100 depending on whether it is a regular or an air-con bus.
at the Batangas City Pier, there is a wide selection of ferries going to Puerto Galera, depending on which port guests intend to enter. (There are three main entry points to Puerto Galera by way of its port facilities: Muelle Pier, Balatero Pier, and Sabang Beach).
Where to Stay
New Encenada Beach Resort
http://www.encenada.com
http://www.lakbaypilipinas.com
Email: inquiry@encenada.com
c/o Sunlink Travel and Tours Pearl Terraces
1700 Ma. Orosa Street, Malate Manila
Tel. No. : (00632) 5240861
Telefax: (00632) 4000285
February 28th, 2006
Miri is the third largest town in Sarawak, which is one of the two Malaysian states located on Borneo Island. Miri shares a common border with Brunei and Indonesia and a greater part of it comprises the basin of Sarawak’s second longest river, Sungei Baram and its many tributaries including Melinau, Tuboh, Bakong, Tinjar, Liang, Pau, Terawan, Aju, Liang, Lanai, Palutan and many others. Many of these rivers are crocodile-infested. As recent as 29 May 2004, three large crocodiles were captured together when they surfaced to search for food near Bakong Bazaar the main gateway to Miri’s timber country.
Geographical Location, Climate and Population
The town of Miri faces the South China Sea and is situated along the banks of the Miri River. The river mouth is close to the town center and a 12-kilometer long peninsula abuts the coast and the town. Part of the town is surrounded by a ridge known as Canada Hill where Malaysia’s first oil well, Miri Oil Well Number 1 ( fondly referred to as the Grand Old Lady) successfully struck oil in August 1910.
Miri has a hot equatorial climate with a dry season from April to September and a wet, cooler season from October to March when the monsoon holds sway. The town has about 250000 people with Chinese being the majority followed by Ibans, Bidayuhs, Malays, Melanaus and there are a small minority of the Orang Ulu people (Interior People) such as the Kayans, Kenyahs, Penans, Punans, Kelabits and Berawans who mainly reside in the more remote and forested areas in the Miri’s interior.
Getting to Miri and Away
Miri is the gateway to Brunei’s capital Bandar Seri Begawan, which is about two hours drive away. Miri is often the stopover point for visitors traveling to the Gunung Mulu National Park. This national park is where the Mulu Caves showpiece and archeological splendor, the Niah Caves is located. Here, visitors can stare in awe at the fragments of a skull belonging to young 40,000-year old homo-sapiens was found in the 1958, experience the legend of the “disappearing” lake, Loagan Bunut, and the mists-shrouded Bario Highlands. Malaysia Airlines (MAS) also connects Miri to the neighboring towns such as Bintulu, Mukah, Marudi, Limbang and Lawas as well to very small isolated hamlets such as Long Lellang, Long Banga, Long Seridan using 18-seater Twin Otter aircraft landing and taking off from short landing strips. There are several MAS direct daily flights from three of Malaysia’s international airports namely Kuala Lumpur, Kota Kinabalu and Kuching. The Kuala Lumpur-Miri route is also served by the two-year old no-frills Air Asia.
Hotels, Shopping, Food and Entertainment
Miri caters to many visitors from neighboring oil-rich Brunei with its strong currency-vis-à-vis the Malaysian Ringgit and affluent populace. There is a wide range of accommodation from star-rated international Park City Everly Hotel and Rihga Royal Hotel which are both seaside resort hotels located along Brighton Beach and downtown hotels such as Mega Hotel and Grand Palace Hotel. Many were built during the boom years from the 1980s until the onset of the Asian financial crisis in early 1998. This Asian-wide economic malaise affected Brunei too when Amedeo, a Brunei conglomerate controlled by the Sultan’s brother Price Jefri Bolkiah the Finance Minister then collapsed under the weight of US10 billion of debts. It left Brunei a little bit impoverished but only for a short while.
Miri has a number of modern high-rise shopping complexes and other more run-of-mill commercial centers as it is the main commercial hub for towns and villages in its Division as well as those in the Bintulu and Limbang Divisions. Miri offers excellent food and entertainment outlets and there are many pubs, bars, cafes and Karaoke lounges as they serve to attract Bruneians during the Muslim week-ends in view that Brunei is “dry” (alcohol is not allowed). It is an ascetic and conservative Islamic sultanate.
Miri is a seafood paradise and the best place to savor fish, prawns, crabs, squids, clams, mussels and other sea creatures is the Miri Waterfront facing the Miri River mouth. If weather permits one should in the evenings dine alfresco in one of those seafront restaurants with rhythmic sounding names such as Yee Ha Hai (Fish, Prawn and Crab in Cantonese), Vo Vo BBQ or plain vanilla Waterfront Seafood. Enjoy the pleasant sea breeze and watch sand-dredgers and tug boats towing barges containing logs or other bulky produce navigating the narrow channel. Listen to the chugging of their engines and hooting of horns and sirens in the still of the night. They sound as if they were greeting you. Other good choices for seafood are Apollo Seafood, Boulevard Seafood and Maxim Delicious but they are away from the seafront.
For Starters…
The best place to start the tour is to visit the Visitor Information Center (VIC) located within a rock garden near the town center next to Park Hotel and town bus terminal. It was built by the Sarawak Tourism Board to promote tourism in Miri and provide information and service to tourists. Informative brochures are available and the friendly staff would also accept reservations for accommodation for most Sarawak national parks. From here cross the road and head for two open-air connected buildings with Malay names Tamu Muhibbah and Tamu Khas displayed. These are markets where the Penans, Kelabits, Kayans and other Orang Ulu communities ply their wild fruits, jungle ferns such as midin and paku and other wild fruits and vegetables, bamboo and palm shoots and herbs, rattan mats, blow pipes, hand-woven baskets and tuak or rice wine as well as cultivated fruits such as durians, bananas, pineapples, coconuts, pomeloes (Citrus grandis), langsat, jackfruits and other tropical fruits. A popular item is the tasty rice from Bario Highlands. Occasionally animals trapped from the forests such as squirrels, mouse-deer, palm civets and pangolins are also offered for sale.
Cross the road back to VIC, walk pass the bus terminal and through the Wisma Pelita shopping center. Head towards the river and you would see the 1910-built Tua Pek Kong Temple situated at the intersection of China Street and Bendahara Street which together with the area bound by Jalan (Street) Kingsway and Jalan Brooke formed the Old Town. Walk around the Old Town and you would see interesting historical landmarks such as the Fish Market, Central Market and Tamu Lama fronting Jalan Oleander. There is a parade of colors inside this Malay market as the ware on display mainly spices and herbs add much color, splendor and flavor to the market. Your eyes are treated to the kaleidoscopic sight of turmeric, cinnamon, coriander, cumin, curry and mint leaves, lemon grass, chilies, green pepper and cloves as well as bananas, papayas, limau (local oranges), mangoes, melons, pineapples, tomatoes, egg plants, gourds, cucumbers and leafy vegetables.
You would notice in your walkabout that many of the traffic circuses in town are graced with sculptures of seahorses the mascot of Miri town. Walk close to them and you cannot resist the temptation to take snapshots of them.
Visit the Grand Old Lady
Walk up Canada Hill from town center using one of the by-passes and you will see an old derrick at the hill crest. This oil well worked faithfully for SHELL for 62 years and outlived many of the other 624 wells in the Miri Division known as the Miri Land Field. Altogether some 660,000 barrels of oil were produced by the Grand Old Lady. At the site there is a man-size replica of oilmen at work. Have a go working with them! A petroleum museum is being built. Climb up the lookout tower and enjoy a breathtaking view of Miri against the emerald sea. Look in the opposite direction and you will see a grand vista of the countryside. As the Miri oil wells started to run dry new fields were found offshore with participation from Petronas, the state-owned national oil corporation. Malaysia must be lucky to strike the oil bonanza from different parts of the South China Sea in Sarawak, Sabah and Terengganu.
Oil gave birth to the town of Lutong or its moniker, Shell Town where Malaysia’s first refinery was commissioned in 1917. Visit Lutong as it is only 10 minutes drive from Miri town center. Pay a visit too to the brand-new branch campus of the Curtin University of Technology of Perth, Australia in nearby Senadin. The setting is just idyllic!
An Island Is Born
Six years ago an island was formed at the Baram river mouth from silt brought down through the ages by the maze-like Baram River and by waves from the South China Sea. The island off Kuala Baram which measures 2.5 kilometers by 1 kilometer resembles a seahorse in its outline when viewed from the air. Hence it was aptly named Seahorse Island. This name is most fitting since the seahorse is Miri’s mascot. This island with trees, shrubs and wild grass on it besides crabs and frogfish is getting popular with people from Miri 30 kilometers away.
Calamity Strikes
The first timber mill was built at Kuala Baram in 1904 by the Borneo Company. Until the 1950s Sarawak was virtually deforested as inefficient manual methods were deployed to fell timber and haul logs. The advent of tractors and chain saws changed the equation and transformed the landscape of Sarawak forever. The late 1970s to the early 1990s saw relentless chopping of trees over vast swathes of Sarawak. Many stretches along Baram River and its tributaries were dotted with timber yards stacked high with logs.
From 1987 until the early 1990s there was a running war between the loggers and the Dayaks (term used to refer collectively to the natives of Borneo) over the logging activities. Moreover there was much clear-felling of trees as pre-logged timber lands were converted to oil palm plantations. The disappearing of the forests had deprived forest-dwelling natives of their source of livelihood — the flora and fauna and their homes as well. Rivers became polluted and fish and prawns became scarce.
Blockades were set up in the logging areas manned by men, women and children and protests and demonstrations were rampant. In 1991 two Penans and a Kelabit visited 25 cities in 13 countries in four continents to champion their cause. One of them brought the campaign to the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro in May 1992 and made an address before the 47th session of United Nation’s General Assembly in December the same year. Thereafter conflict simmered down as timber companies had to resort to reforestation and practice sustainable forest management such as sustainable logging practices and harvesting methods as buyers required certification that the products came from sustainable sources.
A Geological Wonder
Three kilometers from the town center along the Miri Airport Road, is a cliff face with fascinating geological features exposed. This spot known as the Airport Road Outcrop resulted from hill cutting to realign the road to the airport. At the site visitors and passing motorists and passengers can see clearly the geological faults and deformations with a myriad of colors. They look like a giant paint canvas depicting a piece of Picasso abstract art with colorful striations and strokes.
Conquer Your Fear at Miri Public Park
Within the same vicinity is Miri Public Park the latest attraction of Miri. It affords an opportunity to conquer one’s fear of walking on a swaying suspension bridge over a deep valley. Look down from the bridge or lookout tower and you would enjoy a splendid view of the flower gardens and a children playhouse which resembles quaint assembled Lego-blocks.
Miri Fan City
Towards the northern part of the town is Miri City Fan, a public park of fan-shape occupying 26 acres (10.5 hectares). It is an urban civic park rich in cultural, artistic and architectural features and with aesthetic ambience. Its Garden of Vision symbolizes social harmony and progress. The Islamic Garden features Islamic arches and motifs while the Chinese Garden depicts her rich cultural traditions with displays of gazebos, willows, Chinese carps in ponds with a Chinese overhead bridge and a Chinese arch gateway. The Formal Garden has a classical fountain while the Botanical Garden features the rich cultural elements of Sarawak’s diverse communities. Within the grounds is Pustaka Miri or Miri IT Library, an amphitheater and a swimming pool. The Library is housed in a two-storey horseshoe-shaped building with a courtyard planted with many scented flowering plants. The whiff of sweet fragrance gives visitors a nice treat to their nasal senses.
The Sea, Sand, Shells and Sunshine
From the second to the fifth kilometer stretch south of the city lies the popular Brighton Beach. After passing the two beach hotels you would come to a recreational park at kilometer 3.5 known as Taman Selera. Care for some mouth watering satay or ice-kacang (ice-gratings with red beans)? There is an open air food and drink food court with a children’s playground. Stroll leisurely along the casuarinas-lined beach and stay long enough to enjoy the beautiful, brilliant sunset. Another 9 kilometers away along the same stretch of coast is the Luak Bay Esplanade a popular weekend destination for picnics and outings. There are many newly built seaside mansions many of which are owned by timber tycoons who used them as weekend homes: It just a keeping-up-with-Joneses and lifestyle diversion for them. Just 19 kilometers from Miri is the renowned Hawaii Beach which offers a venue for quietude and undisturbed peace to frolic, catch up with reading or writing or to just do nothing under the swaying coconut palms.
Lian Hua San Temple Presents Photo-taking Opportunities
Fifteen minutes drive out from town center in a residential enclave Krokop is Lian Hia San (Lotus Hill) Temple. It was completed in 2000 and is one of the biggest Taoist temples in South East Asia. The unique building presents Chinese religious architecture and design and offers irresistible photo-taking opportunities. It houses three statues depicting the Taoist deities, Guan-di, Zhang-fei and Lui-bei. A stone’s throw away is another Chinese temple built in honor of the Eight Immortals or Ba Xian found in Taoism.
Underwater World of Miri
The Miri Reef is one of the most recently discovered diving spots. Hard and soft corals cover the reefs where anemones, sponges, crinoids, coral fishes and other reef creatures thrive. There are two ship wrecks lying at 18 meters underwater for wreck enthusiasts to explore. The nearest dive is only 15 minutes by boat from the Miri River mouth.
Why Visit Miri?
Miri is such an enchanting and interesting town that there is really no reason to say “No”. Many things are currently being done to add new attractions, beautify, and apply touch-up or do some makeover to existing landmarks as part of the master plan to make Miri to become a Healthy Resort City by the year 2005.
February 28th, 2006
A turtle named Henry headed for the South China Sea one recent moonless night. He was one hour old and not much bigger than a bug, but his flat-flippered dash down the beach showed a determination to live bred into him by 200 million years of turtle history. Plunging down ripples in the sand and struggling up the other side, his rush to the ocean was identical to that of his ancestors — except for the television lights which proclaimed Henry as something of a hero.
The enormous task ahead of him was simply to survive, in a world where his kind face extinction. A warm wave came up to meet Henry in the horseshoe bay framed by jungle-clad hills on Malaysia’s east coast, and, to the whispered urgings of gathered scientists and journalists, he took a dive and disappeared. Henry’s chances of survival are perhaps one in a thousand, maybe one in ten thousand, nobody really knows. What is known is that sea turtles in Malaysia, and around the world, are facing the end of eons of existence in which they outlived the dinosaurs.
There have always been predators for hatchlings like Henry — fish, birds and more recently, human hunters — but he faces perils unknown to his forebears. On the horizon, rocking gently in the swell kicked up by a tropical breeze, was a line of fishing trawler lights, his first hurdle, according to Dionysius Sharma, turtle expert and national programme director of the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF) in Malaysia. Henry is too small now to be caught in the nets — though later in life they may kill him — but if he and his hundred-or-so siblings who rushed into the water together gather under the glare, they will be a buffet for predators.
If he avoids the lure of the bright lights and keeps heading out into the ocean, Henry will have made it into what Sharma calls “the lost years”. He will find “drift lines”, where tides and winds bring food and fish, turtles and other seafarers together on the high seas. If he is lucky and doesn’t eat a piece of plastic, thinking it is a squid, or a tar ball from a ship’s oil, the next time anybody sees Henry he will be “dinner-plate size” and back in coastal waters feeding on sea grasses — if pollution hasn’t degraded the habitat, says Sharma.
The evocative description of his size is not a problem in Malaysia, where Islam forbids the eating of amphibious animals, but could be a death sentence if Henry headed off to neighbouring countries.
After anything from seven to 20 years, if Henry turns out to be female and survives the vicissitudes of modern life, she will return, measuring up to a metre in shell length and weighing up to 150 kilogrammes (330 pounds), to the beach where she was born and lay eggs. In the course of her life, which might be 50 or 60 years — again, nobody really knows, says Sharma — she will lay up to 10,000 eggs. That’s a lot of little Henries, but in recent years it has not been enough to ensure the survival of the species.
Henry is a green turtle, and if you’re lucky you might spot him on a snorkelling trip off Malaysia’s east coast in years to come, but you are extremely unlikely to see his cousin the leatherback, gentle giant and glamour boy of the shelled seafarers. Malaysia once had one of the main leatherback populations in the world, but nesting sites have dropped from some 10,000 a couple of decades ago to fewer than 10 now.
The scientists who watched Henry head off into the sea had just concluded a conference called by the Worldfish Centre, an international research group, to to try to save the few remaining leatherbacks and prevent Henry and his ilk from going the same way. “While there is still hope, it is critical for Malaysia to safeguard the population of its greens, hawksbill and olive ridley turtles before they suffer the fate of the leatherbacks,” said the 40 specialists from Malaysia, the Philippines, Indonesia, Thailand, Australia and the United States.
One of the biggest threats to the turtles’ survival is the harvesting of eggs from nesting beaches, and the scientists called for more protected sanctuaries like this one in Malaysia’s eastern state of Terengganu. “Many populations are in danger of extinction and could be gone in a few years if there is not urgent and effective action,” they said in a statement.
Henry, named after the famous 14th century Portuguese explorer Henry the Navigator, has already survived the most dangerous period in his life — as an egg. And somewhere out there in the South China Sea, he is still swimming, maybe, with the hopes of the scientists riding on his tiny back.
February 28th, 2006
A generation ago, a battle was successfully waged on this rugged island to preserve what was left of its primeval forests, home to giant trees millennia old. Now tourism spawned by this natural heritage is threatening its survival.
Tessei Shiba, the local hero who fought government plans to fell the trees three decades ago, is one of those warning of a second crisis posed by the island’s biggest earner. The former town assemblyman launched a campaign in 1972 against the planned commercial exploitation of Yakushima’s cedar trees — many more than 1,000 years old — after demand for housing timber grew in the late 1960s when Japan’s post-World War II recovery took off. His decade-long campaign ended successfully, saving roughly 1,500 hectares (3,705 acres) of Japan’s oldest forest on this volcanic island some 1,100 kilometers (682 miles) southwest of Tokyo. His efforts won international recognition in 1992 when the island, known as the “Alps in the Ocean” for its central mountain range of peaks exceeding 1,800 meters (5,940 feet), was registered as one of Japan’s first UNESCO nature World Heritage sites.
More than a decade later, Shiba, 61, is determined to start another crusade to conserve the environment which he says has been “visibly damaged” by the recent rapid growth in the number of tourists. “Yakushima is facing a second and possibly its worst-ever crisis,” Shiba said in an interview with AFP. “I think it’s time for me to stand up again in order to ensure this priceless nature can be passed down to our remotest descendants,” said the native-born islander.
The number of tourists visiting the island, which has a permanent population of 14,000, rose 8.7 percent to a record 314,766 in the year to March 2004 for the fourth straight annual gain, according to local officials who predict a new record again this year. While come visitors come to enjoy the beaches and sub-tropical vegetation, others scale the rocky mountain peaks which are covered with deep snow in winter.
A favourite destination for climbers is the world’s largest known cedar, “Jomon-sugi,” which stands more than 25 meters (83 feet) high, has a diameter of more than five meters at shoulder height and a trunk circumference of 16 meters. The iconic gnarled cedar, which is estimated to be anything from 2,600 to 7,200 years old, is located near the center of the 500-square-kilometer (200-square-mile) island. As many as 500 people a day climb the mountain to see the cedar, queuing in a steep and narrow pass where roots protrude from topsoil worn away by thousands of climbers’ boots and the bark of trees is rubbed away by hands.
Shiba, who took over as head of the Yakushima Tourism Association in June, says visits to the mountains must be limited to avoid irreparable damage. “As a first step, I want to close the mountains once a day at least once a year,” he said, adding that limiting the number of visitors to the island was also being considered. “Yakushima is the treasure of the islanders, the Japanese and the people of the world. The future of this island rests on our shoulders.”
Bernd Ritzmann, a 38-year-old computer engineer visiting from Germany, was aware of the fragile ecological balance. “Although nature is beautifully preserved so far, it’s not easy to keep this place as it is,” he observed. Another visitor said Yakushima was one of the few places in densely populated Japan still untouched by development. “Yakushima is one of the places where we can feel real nature,” said Hiroyuki Takata, a 32-year-old employee at a human resources company in Hiroshima, western Japan. “I hope to keep this great place open to the public.”
The cedar forest is not the only victim of the island’s successful eco-tourism. The region’s largest nesting site for loggerhead and green turtles is also vulnerable, experts say. The number of turtles coming ashore to lay eggs here has increased, reaching 4,185 last year and is expected to rise further this year thanks to a ban on the sale of eggs and restrictions on the use of fixed shore nets, according to Kazuyoshi Omuta, chairman of the Yakushima Sea Turtle Centre. “But on the other hand, the egg-laying rate plunged to around 50 percent from a peak of 80 percent in 1986,” Omuta said, adding that nearly 10,000 people, mostly belonging to package tours, come to the beaches each year to watch the turtles lay their eggs at night. “Turtles are very sensitive. They feel stress as hundreds of people watch them lay eggs with bright flashlamps or the headlights of their cars,” he said. “Some eggs are actually trampled to death on the beach,” he added. “The sharp decline in the egg-laying rate is a serious problem, which could be a sign of the extinction of turtles from the island.”
Another problem is waste, with the volume of trash rising more than 35 percent to 3,450 tonnes a year compared to 1996 years ago in line with the growth of tourists, said Koji Kihara of the local government’s environment division. Tourism is now the island’s biggest industry earning an estimated 10 billion yen (90 million dollars) a year, accounting for some 60 percent of the island’s economy, but the life of islanders, who used to live from fishing and farming, has yet to improve. Their average income is around three million yen a year, about 70 percent of the national average, Kihara said.
“There is no doubt that tourism has become the islanders’ lifeblood,” Kihara said. “They have sacrificed nature to earn money, but against their expectations, the islanders’ lives have not been changed much. They have to think about how to survive the difficulties before they lose nature, which is their sole asset,” he added.
February 28th, 2006
The beaches of Thailand are world famous for their beautiful coasts, azure blue waters and relatively unspoiled settings. Surprisingly, Ko Samet, the island closest to Bangkok (2.5 hours drive), where millions of Thailand tourists arrive to begin their holiday travels, is still relatively unknown. What the island may lack in an energetic nightlife compared to that of the beaches in Pattaya, or in majestic, exotic scenery like in Phuket far to the south, it makes up for with a natural, easy charm and 14 accessible white sand beaches and a national park.
My stay in Ko Samet (or Ko Samed, as some Thai sites will spell it) was purely by accident. I was traveling in Thailand with a friend who had family to visit in Rayong, a province about 2 hours south of Bangkok on the mainland near the Gulf of Thailand. Rayong is only 20 km east of the fishing village of Ban Peh from where one catches a short ferry boat to the island. I looked into the idea of heading over to the island to relax for a couple of days so as to not intrude on my friend’s family visit. When another traveler on the plane eagerly endorsed a resort on the island, everything fell right into place and I was island bound.
Ban Peh is a both a working fishing village, and the last shopping strip for supplies and the ever-present Thailand souvenir before heading over to the island. There are ferries daily that make three stops along the north end of Ko Samet. Depending on your accommodations, some resorts on the island also provide their own boat service from the pier at Ban Peh to the island.
The resort recommended to me was Mooban Talay, a moderate to upper-end priced resort isolated along Ao Noi Na bay on the northeast coast. All of the lodging is in simple yet elegantly designed bungalows just a few steps away from the beach. The new bungalows, (the resort opened in 2001) all had wonderful furnishings, picture windows, decks, and in the first row of bungalows like the one I was in that fronted the beach, also had their own hammock in the front “yard” under a thatched Thai-style gazebo. To wake up in the morning to the sound of the ocean gently lapping up to the shore, and the warm glow of the light from the sun just rising over the horizon and be two steps from your hammock and the beach was like heaven on earth.
My traveling companion and an adventurous aunt in the family initially accompanied me on the ferry over to the island to make sure there were no problems checking in at the resort. The aunt admitted to never having visited the island, of the opinion that it was more of a place for “farang” (foreigners) to visit with accommodations that catered to their tastes (and their currency) rather than to local Thai’s in nearby Rayong. I can’t say that her perception was completely off the mark, as I found myself the constant point of focus from the staff who at the same time cast wary eyes on the two Thai people next to me.
Within an hour after arriving and dropping my bags at the bungalow, checking out the lush grounds, the pool, and the outdoor restaurant, my visitors had to say goodbye and catch the next ferry off the island. Walking to the dock, they repeatedly asked whether I wouldn’t be bored, and what I would do for 3 days until they returned to pick me up. I assured them I would be doing “nothing” which was sort of the point, just relaxing, reading a book and going for a swim, or a walk along the beach. For the remainder of my first day and the next, I blissfully followed this routine, only taking short “breaks” for eating and afternoon siestas.
But the funny thing about doing nothing is that one can get their fill of it pretty quickly. So, after a day and a half it did get a little too relaxing, curiosity got the best of me and I set out and explore the rest of the island.
I found that the small T-shaped island (about 7 km long and 5 km across) is segregated both by topography, and somewhat by clientele. Transportation activity is centered around the piers on the north end of the island, and there is only one real road in the interior of the island that runs north-south. There is an east-west “passage” that is something between an off-road trail and a washed out dirt road, but is almost inhospitable to drive, even when you’re just sitting as the passenger in one of the open air pick-up trucks that serve as the taxi service around the island.
In my first trip off of the grounds of the resort on the back of my taxi/truck I took a short ride south and was dropped off at the front gate of the national park on the interior of the island, a sign for Had Sai Kaeo beach to my left, and for Ao Phrao beach on the western side of the island to my right. The park was clearly signed to pay an admission, yet the visitor center was empty, so I strolled through the front gate. There was both an easy path to the beach, and another unmarked side road. Tempting as the distant view of the water was in the late morning sun, I took the detour instead. The road ran parallel behind the beach, essentially along the back side of all of the resorts and the modest housing for the island families and the employees of the resorts.
The influence of the economic crash in many Asian countries in the late 1990’s was obvious as I came across entire resorts of small bungalows that were abandoned, no longer in business. The housing was often unfinished shacks with scattered laundry lines, power generators and piles of refuse. I passed one larger school and a small wat (temple) in poor condition its concrete Buddha peeling weathered layers of white paint.
Between the houses were small local businesses, mostly shops with mothers and small children minding the store sitting languidly in shady corners while watching television or taking a nap. I had stumbled into the real life surroundings of those who lived and worked on the island before experiencing the white sand beaches and the blue waters. For the rest of the trip, no matter how pretty the made-for-the-brochure view, I couldn’t forget that there was another side of life being experienced by those who tried so hard to make this place such a perfect paradise for visitors.
Finally, I had my feet in the warm water and the soft white sand of the beach that stretched for as far as my eyes could see south along the gentle curve of the bay on the east side of the island. As I walked along, I passed tourists relaxing in the sun and Thai men with baskets on either end of long poles across their shoulders selling fresh fruit and drinks. Others vendors with backpacks pulled out brightly colored sarongs for sale as a beach cover-up. At the inland edge of the beach were strung restaurants, cafes, and resorts that seemed to cater to a younger crowd offering a better priced accommodation and an active nightlife. At this part of the island, an easy stumble back to your bungalow after a night at the bar was as critical of a selling point as enjoying the natural scenery and taking quiet walks along the beach.
After a quick lunch of Tom Ka Gai soup and rice with a lemongrass ice tea afternoon clouds began to block out the midday sun. I headed back north towards the point of the island that jutted out at the northeast, following a rocky outcrop with an abandoned bamboo chair, and up the side of the island a small statue in honor of Pra Apai Manee, part of the legend written by the famous Thai poet Sunthon Phu. The view around the edge of the rocks, up towards the north shore of the island was deceiving, as all walks along the beach can be when looking at distant landmarks like my resort, they appear closer than is really the case.
With serious cloud cover coming ashore and little white caps appearing in the bay, I made a whimsical error in judgment and decided to hike along the rocks and the shore back to my bungalow at Mooban Talay. After a few minutes hiking around two more corners that I thought would drop back down to a beach, I found only steeper rocks, and now the tide was rising and pools of water were where the beach used to be in between the rocks. At one point I was truly rock climbing up a vertical face (I’ve never rock climbed, not even a fake wall in an outdoor gear store), and when I reached the top I was greeted by a small spirit house, and an empty bottle of Singha beer. On the other side of the spirit house, a sheer drop down into water.
The only option was to back down the way I came, shimmy across two dead tree trunks and head to real land. Between me and the coastline, well, cliff actually, was a large shallow pool of water filled with hundreds of water strider bugs on the surface, and a type of cockroach insect scurrying all over the rocks themselves. None of this was ever in any of the tourist literature about Ko Samet!
I finally made back onto real land and around yet another corner saw a defined foot path, with my resort still well ahead in the distance. I walked into what a sign said was “Pineapple Resort” but instead was an unkempt grounds and a scattering of small bungalows on stilt legs. I continued on the footpath around another bend until…it disappeared. A more prudent person would have turned around and found some sort of road that must have been used by the resort when it was open, but a more stubborn person keeps going ahead on the “mission” to walk the coastline and get back home.
Onward I went, into low lying brush and rocky shores. Persistence paid off when a path reappeared ahead, but then through rustling leaves about 20 meters in front of me a panting pack of 5 street dogs came out from the interior bushes. I was now sure I was going to become one of those bizarre headlines you only see in Thai newspapers, “Farang Mauled on Deserted Coast of Ko Samet during Storm”. Fortunately, the dogs seemed more shocked to see me than I was to see them, and they quickly turned around and headed the other way leading me down the path.
With the clouds only stirring up a brisk wind, no rain, and no wild dogs, I confidently marched along the path and into an open clearing at what appeared to be the Ko Samet water treatment station, a ranger station, or a military base (one of the buildings was painted camouflage). Seven to eight Thai’s in green uniforms were sitting around a picnic table when out I walked, a sweaty, wet, scratched up, sun-burned foreigner stumbling out of the brush along the rocky coast. There was a service road next to the camouflage building. Stubborn but not stupid, I gave up my quest and in my best dignified air of “I always walk this route around the island” I bid the group a polite “Sawadee” and headed up the road back onto the lone paved street of the island that had brought me down this direction a few hours ago.
Along the way I noticed a few resorts and family houses that I hadn’t paid attention to when I was holding on for dear life in the back of the pick up truck in the morning. I also noticed a pier, or a restaurant off the shore out in the bay. There was a small boat on the shore and a bell on a rope. Later during my stay when my friends returned for the last day we came back here, took the boat over to the restaurant and sat on cushions on the deck behind a glass top table with a hole in the floor, below the table our feet dangled as we looked at the water below. Fresh caught fish was brought to the table in plastic wash baskets and you could pick the fish you wanted for dinner. Afterwards, they gave us a tour of their structure, on the back of the restaurant they were adding a new building with a couple of rooms for those who might want to stay the night out on the bay.
On every trip, I seem to be predisposed to take the roads less traveled, and to intentionally create a plan that is really no plan at all. Traveling for pleasure or on a “vacation” seems to me to be a time to embrace discovery and to follow your own natural rhythms and intuitions - those parts of you that go so unused in the daily grind of “taking what they’re giving when you’re working for a living”. Ko Samet is a beautiful place to be sure, and Ao Phrao beaches on the west (another story for another day) are spectacular as well, but for me the island is also sleeping shop keepers, wild dogs, a spirit house on the rocks and an abandoned bamboo chair in the middle of nowhere. Those memories are uniquely mine, and they’re what I hope to gather with every trip I take back to Thailand.
February 28th, 2006
It was a beautiful spread of jungle in which to be hopelessly lost. Tall trees, untouched and primeval held up a thick canopy that blocked half the sky. Thick green plants grew knee high, grabbing at my ankles and occasionally tripping me. It occurred to me, somewhere around hour three of an increasingly nervous walkabout that errant travelers have died in far less remote locales. I sat down on the green carpet, took a few deep breaths and took stock of the situation. My quart bottle of water was still half full, and I’d passed a few streams; I wasn’t going to die of thirst. I also had half a kilo of whole coffee beans in my messenger bag. In a pinch I could chew them whole to combat fatigue.
I’d left the stylish Pakse hotel (a mahogany-rich ten dollar per night bargain) that morning and headed East on a rented scooter with the intention of exploring the Bolivan Plateau, a large expanse of southern Laos stretching from the Mekong east into Vietnam. My map showed a roughly circular and mostly paved road that would take me past a number of waterfalls, the curiously named Coffee Research and Experimental Center (where I’d bought the beans), and a number of tiny towns before curving back towards Pakse, a fair sized city in a country not known for fair sized cities. But those plans seemed shot now; the hour was getting late, and I was seriously lost and beginning to worry.
Using my digital camera’s 60-second film function, I documented what I thought might be the beginning of my last lucid hours on the earth. Some Lao woodcutter would come across my body and piece together the details of my stupid demise.
“This jungle may well be the scene of JSB’s final adventure” I began, pointing the camera up towards my face in good Blair Witch tradition before panning out for a 360 degree sweep and narrating for posterity the numerous twists leading to my sorry fate. (Long story made short: Parked the scooter a kilometer from the waterfall when the path got too slick, took the wrong trail heading back, then zigged when I should have zagged a couple of times.)
It isn’t every day a man gets to record his own epitaph, I thought, and continued my wandering. At some point I came within earshot of the thunderous waterfall and long forgotten Cub Scout basic training kicked in - “if you’re lost in the woods, follow the water.” Using a bamboo pole I’d picked up to ward off snakes I slowly battered a path to the source of the roar. Once there, I was able to retrace my steps back to the wrong path, avoid it, and follow the right path back to my waiting scooter. The engine turned over on the first kick. I pointed the bike towards Vietnam and gunned it, happy to be alive and no longer walking in verdant circles.
I hadn’t gotten more than a few miles when a bright light filled the sky, followed seconds later by ominous thunder. Moments later the sky turned from yellow to black; dark clouds converged overhead. It started to rain. Hard. Without slowing down I fished through my bag for the cheap umbrella I’d purchased the week before in Bangkok. I opened it, and within seconds the high winds broke the spokes and shredded the plastic. I took great comfort knowing just how much worse my situation would be had I not found my way out of the jungle in time.
Presently a small shack appeared up ahead in the wet gloom.
The family that lived within the one room shack seemed surprised to see a farrang dripping at their doorway; I may well have been the first white man they’d ever seen, at least up close. They gestured for me to come in, and I doffed my muddy sneakers and did just that, exhausting my Lao vocabulary at hello and thank you. The interior of the shack was dark, and the hammering of rain on the tin roof thunderous, and a naked low-watt electric bulb dangling from a cord nailed to the ceiling was the lone appliance. Except for the children - there were three of these - everyone in the shack was smoking. A hunched old woman brought me a glass of tea, and a middle aged man lounging in the corner tossed a bag of tobacco my way. My attempts to roll a cigarette with the coarse, unglued paper seemed a source of great amusement to the adults; after watching me botch my first smoke, the grandfather took the bag back and demonstrated how cigarettes are rolled in Laos - not with the fingers, but between the palms with a long fingertip-to-wrist sweep.
We smoked together, rain pounding tin roof. My eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and I saw a number of large clear bags of tea leaves lying on the floor. Using that time-honored signal of intention to trade - a sweeping you-to-me hand motion - I communicated that I’d like to buy some, and took out a thousand kip note (around a sawbuck American). The old woman smiled and scooped tea leaves into a bag until I remembered the Lao word for stop: jut. The rain stopped, and dizzy from the smoke I bowed out of the shack and continued westward under an ominous sky, messenger bag filled with coffee beans and tea leaves.
A few kilometers down the road and the sky opened up again. I sought shelter in another tin-roofed shack, this one with three open walls and inhabited not by a family but a single golden Buddha statue sitting in sempiternal meditation. I sat before the Buddha and closed my eyes, sitting in the Vipassana style to the sound of heavy rain. Some moments passed, and I began to sense that I was no longer alone. I opened one eye to find myself being looked upon with seeming interest by a child monk and his puppy who had joined me inside the shrine. The boy pulled a straw mat from under his arm and laid it on the wood floor, and I introduced myself.
“Sawasdee, my name is Joshua.”
“Sawasdee,” replied the boy, “my name is Boy.”
I pointed to the dog and asked his name.
“He name is Mickey.” Said the boy, exhausting his English for the time being. We continued our meditation together, me meditating on the Buddha and the boy seemingly meditating on me. The dog seemed to meditate upon itself.
Again the rain stopped, and I bid another fond adieu and headed westward. But between the rain stops and the unscheduled three hour jungle walkabout the hour had gotten late. The sun, when it finally peered out from behind the clouds, was behind me. I consulted the map once more; I’d covered barely a quarter of the circuit. Soon it would be dark, and I knew that trying to finish my journey at night would be an act of pure hubris.
Turning the bike around, I followed the setting sun back to Pakse and got there in time to watch it melt into the Mekong.
February 28th, 2006
Though not often mentioned among Asia’s top five must-visit cities, Vientiane should be high on any traveler’s to-visit list. While the Laotian capital’s days as a quiet backwater (visited chiefly by foreign aid agencies and the Lonely Planet crowd) are behind it, the city still hovers in that rare and pleasant middle ground of being a tourist-worthy place that doesn’t feel like it exists for the sake of tourism.
As befits the largest city of a spiritually-minded nation, chief among Vientiane’s attractions are its temples. No article about the Laotian capital would be complete without mention of the fantastic golden spires of the Royal Stupa, That Luang (arguably the most important temple in Laos) or the Hat Dam Stupa (said to be the resting place of a seven headed dragon that saved the city in 1828). But visitors looking to get a deeper glimpse into the city’s sacred heritage should rent a bicycle and explore the more obscure areas of town searching out the myriad smaller temples that dot the city. Many of these off-the-beaten path complexes (for example, the virtually unknown Wat Nakhoonoy, which has a restored centuries-old Buddhist crematorium) have not just beautiful statues, stupas and temples, but are home to young monks happy for the chance to practice their English by providing guided tours to visitors.
Exploring Vientiane’s back alleys is also the best way to uncover hidden nodes of colonial architecture, throwbacks to the early decades of the 20th century when the city was an important part of France’s empire in Indochina. Some of these mansions are crumbling, long-faded beauties, while others are painstakingly resorted. One neighborhood with more of the latter sort can be found on the south side of town around the International school on the south side of town, where various international aid organizations use these restored colonial mansions as their base of operations in Laos.
Visitors looking for a taste of anti-western propaganda (perhaps to counter the notion that the government has somehow knuckled under by allowing so many of Vientiane’s prime mansions to be taken over by foreign agencies) need only visit the National Museum. Considering the fact that Laos endured a decade of horrific American bombing in the name of containing communism, the overall anti-western bent at the museum is fairly mellow, though some specific exhibits (specifically those featuring pictures of the aftermath of American bombs) are quite heavy. Laos’ former colonial masters aren’t spared; a large oil painting showing French colonial soldiers oppressing the people is one of the largest in the museum.
Laos’ status as a former French colony does offer one specific blessing; while the British left their colonial subjects with efficient bureaucracies and functioning railroads - the French left theirs with an appreciation for coffee, baguettes and excellent food. Culinary minded tourists (especially for those with a taste for pate, escargot, and other Parisian fare) will find Vientiane one of the best bargains on the planet. Places like Restaurant Le Silapa and Le Central offer multi course gourmet specials for under 90 RMB, exorbitant by local standards but a bargain anywhere else.
If shopping is what floats your boat, then a trip to the morning market (Talat Sao) may well be the highlight of your trip to Vientiane. Located next to the central bus station, Talat Sao is a dual-level cornucopia of Lao silks and fabrics, wood carvings, works of art of both the rare and mass produced variety, silver, Buddha statues and curious of all sorts. Sadly, the government is currently in the late planning stages of tearing down the old traditional market and replacing it with a more modern structure (a billboard outside the market says this process will begin sometime in 2006). Despite its moniker morning market, the market is open all day. Curio shoppers looking for smaller, more portable items might want to have a look on the curb next to the market (in between it and the post office), where merchants in tribal dress offer a variety of strange items at somewhat cheaper prices than those found inside the market itself.
Finally, while Landlocked Laos is notably short of beaches (there is the Mekong, though it’s considered a ghardia risk for swimmers), Vientiane does offer opportunity for relaxation of a uniquely damp heat variety. Wat Sokpaluang, or Forest Wat is home to Vientiane’s original herbal sauna. Though once operated by monks, the sauna’s management was recently taken over by a vivacious and multilingual woman called Noy, who greets customers and hands out multicolored Laotian sarongs. The actual sauna is inside of a bamboo hut with a hole cut in the floor through which steam rises from a boiling cauldron of local herbs and flora set below (the actual ingredients are a closely guarded secret). Massages are given on a veranda attached to the steam hut. At 30,000 kip (about 25 RMB) for sauna and massage, prices are low even by Lao standards.
Tourists looking for the sleepy Shangri-La of Indochina that Vientiane was just ten years ago. once was might be disappointed; the city has changed much over the past decade. The rutted dirt tuk-tuk tracks that passed for roads in the nineties have been widened and paved, and old colonial style guesthouses now contend for business with an increasing number of more upscale hotels. But while traffic has increased, the avenues are still mostly silent after ten PM, and the scent of jasmine is still more prevalent than that of exhaust. This alone makes Vientiane worth the trip.
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February 28th, 2006
Being Malaysian, it is very easy for me to take my country for granted. I mean, come on… I see it everyday of my life. I opened up my windows and there it is, the Twin Towers in the distance. It’s free view for me - a view that many people from abroad had to pay and travel far to see.
Malaysia has its fair share of beauty and nature. It’s a melting pot of culture, tradition, languages, and food. In the bigger cities like Kuala Lumpur, visitors will get all the modernity that they require. Food choices are aplenty while the large shopping complexes will satisfy even the most hardcore shoppers.
Away from the hustle and bustle of city life, eco freaks will simply love the wondrous nature that Malaysia has to offer. The country is abounded with reserve forests and national parks. Encircling the peninsular are many beautiful sun-kissed islands with crystal clear waters and rich marine life. Although having taken my country for granted and preferring Hawaii to Langkawi Island, I was in for a pleasant surprise after having discovered a beautiful island known as Pangkor Laut.
Like a gem lazing idyllic in the pristine ocean, Pangkor Laut is a privately-owned island that is the country’s pride. An internationally-acclaimed resort, Pangkor Laut is located just three miles off the west coast waters of the Straits of Malacca. Made up of the Royal Bay, Emerald Bay and Coral Bay, each bay is distinctive in its own ways. Spanning over 300 acres of land, majority of the island is still covered in lush rainforest that is as old as two million years of age and only a small part of it is used for development.
Pangkor Laut is the perfect spot for many occasions, be it a special once-in-a-lifetime event or a business meet. It could be a place for weddings, honeymoon or just a romantic getaway for the couple. Business meeting packages are also available for corporations who wished to combined business with pleasure.
An extremely romantic location, a visitor stepping foot onto Pangkor Laut will soon realize that they have reached paradise-on-earth. Be prepared to be pampered from head to toe by the many facilities offered on the island. Beautiful scenery, delicious cuisine, relaxing spas, exotic accommodations… these are some of the treats awaiting each visitor. As proof that Pangkor Laut is indeed a world-standard resort, U.K. Conde Nast Traveller magazine (October 1999 issue) voted it the Top 2 Island Resort in the World!
Before leaving home, you will of course be required to make prior reservations to avoid disappointment. For accommodations, you have a choice of either luxury spa villas, sea villas, beach villas, hill villas, or garden villas. Room rates vary with each accommodation type. Apart from these 148 Malaysian-styled luxury villas, there are also eight gorgeous Estates that are situated in a secluded cove. As the resort aims to keep a green theme, all of the accommodations are expertly designed and furnished to blend in with the surrounding environment.
Basically in choosing an accommodation, you may want to consider the number of travelers. For couples on a romantic getaway, they can choose the villas, which are designed to accommodate two. All villas come with five-star hotel facilities, but here are the distinct differences.
Firstly, the Sea Villas, which is the island’s signature accommodation, are elegant homes on stilts. Each villa is linked by the wooden walkway and is a large and airy place. Its uniqueness is the oversized tub that opens out to the sea! Imagine how romantic it would be to bathe under the moonlit sky with the waves gently breaking on the shoreline.
The Spa Villas is quite like the Sea Villas except that it is built to offer direct access to the Spa Village. It also has an oversized bath with a ceiling-mounted shower and a large balcony for private sun bathing. The view from there is a breathtaking one of the Pangkor Straits.
You also have the option of choosing a Beach Villa that is built a short distance from the sandy beach. Each offering you stunning view of the sea, these bungalows comes with a large bathtub that is located in a private outdoor courtyard.
If you can’t decide between a seafront view and a green view, then choose the Hill Villas. This accommodation choice will offer you the best of both worlds. As the name suggest, the Hill Villas are built on the hillside enveloped by the lush rainforest, thus offering you a grand view of the ocean as well as the beautiful tropical gardens. Each Hill Villa is a double-storey unit where the ground floor units comes with a large bathtub that is built in the private open courtyard whilst the upper floors will have bathrooms opening out to the rainforest.
For those who simply love to be close to nature, choose the Garden Villas. It is located amidst the thick tropical gardens of the Resort and comes in double-storey units. Just like the Hill Villas, the Garden Villas also have two large baths. The one on the upper floor opens out to a view of the surrounding rainforest whilst the one on the ground floor is in a private courtyard. If you are traveling with your children or other family members, you may even ask for the adjoining villas known as the Family Plan Villas in which two ground floor units are linked for convenient access.
Other than the villas, Pangkor Laut also offers you a choice of Estates accommodation. These Estates are built along a secluded bay and are tucked away from the main Resort. Those who crave privacy or total solitude should consider the Estate. Each of the residences is built with references to historical architecture, of days gone by, and is enclose within a beautifully landscaped garden. A unique accommodation, the Estates are built resembling Malay architecture - so this is a great place for visitors who love cultural fusion during their trip. Of course, the highlight of this accommodation is the swimming pools. The pools are strategically built so that any swimmer will be able to take advantage of the best views in the area. Tranquility, privacy and luxurious comfort are the main theme of the Estate accommodation. Together with princely décor and subtle tones of polished tropical hardwood floorings, the aftereffect is one of warmth and coziness.
If that is not luxurious enough, a visitor will be glad to know that an Estate Manager will always be present to attend to your every whims and desire. Daily, there will be two attendants and a Chef to prepare your meals and handle any housekeeping jobs. Generally, a visitor will be pampered to the max and be allowed to enjoy his or her stay there with as much privacy as possible.
Not only is Pangkor Laut famous for its beautiful beaches and luxurious service, the food also promises a delightful experience. The location of each restaurant is well thought out and the choices of cuisine are wide. From Malay to Chinese fare, romantic to corporate spots, Pangkor Laut dishes out almost anything that one’s heart desires.
Right now there are ten dining places altogether, namely The Samudra, Palm Grove Café, Uncle Lim’s, Royal Bay Beach Club, Sri Lagenda Lounge, Oasis Bar, Chapman’s Bar, Dinner on the Rocks, Sunset Dinner at Sea, and Fisherman’s Cove. Each of these dining spots has its unique cuisine, ambience and purpose.
You can always start your day out at Palm Grove Café where there is an extensive buffet to tickle the taste bud. The café is opened daily. If you are still craving for food after that heavy buffet and a swim in the sea, you can always head over to Chapman’s Bar - a bar named after the famous British Colonel, Freddy Spencer Chapman. The bar serves light lunches such as salad, sandwiches, seafood dishes and even satay (BBQ meat on skewers). You can also get lunch at the Royal Bay Beach Club, which is located near to the lap pool. There, a live band will accompany your after dinner drink. If you are just looking for drinks throughout the day, the Oasis Bar would be the best place for it. You can find it next to the Royal Bay Beach Club.
There are more choices of dining spots for dinner where the variety is larger and the scenery more beautiful. As the sun sets, you can always opt for the ultra-romantic “Sunset Dinner at Sea” where you will be taken on a leisurely cruise around the island. To add to the mood, the boat in which you will be traveling in is a tongkang-style* teak wood boat. The boat will then be anchored at Emerald Bay so that you will get the opportunity to witness a most spectacular sunset. After that, you will enjoy a four-course meal along a quiet cove.
* A kind of boat or junk used in the seas of the Malay Archipelago
If you want to be grounded and yet enjoy the beautiful sunset, you can choose to dine at “Dinner on the Rocks” - another great spot for watching the sun set over Emerald Bay. There will also be a romantic four-course dinner at a wonderful location that is surrounded by tropical rainforest accompanied by the sounds of waves lapping nearby.
Another great place for “dinner with a view” is at The Samudra. This beautiful restaurant is built on stilts overlooking the sea therefore “dinner with a view” is guaranteed. Cuisine offered here are authentic Malay dishes and international fare. To give it an even more “Malay-feel”, there will be live Gamelan* music accompanying you as you eat.
* A gamelan is a traditional Indonesian instrumental ensemble comprising mainly percussion: gongs, metallophones, xylophones, drums, cymbals, flutes
Uncle Lim’s is also a great place for dinner. Named after the chef, this restaurant is where you will be able to find great Eastern cooking with a home cook feel. Each dish is made to suit the taste of the diner. Nyonya and Hockchew cuisine are their specialties.
Nearby to Uncle Lim’s is the Sri Lagenda Lounge. This is where you should head to if you are not ready for dinner. The lounge offers pre-dinner drinks and a strategic spot to view the sun setting in the distance.
Apart from the pampered accommodation and delicious cuisines, Pangkor Laut can also indulge you in many other ways. Apart from swimming, working out at the gym, going jungle trekking, or playing a few rounds of tennis/squash, you can always opt for the less strenuous indoor activity - a spa treatment!
A luxurious Spa Village is the place to head to if you are looking for the ultimate in pampering services. A building with lots of natural resources, it is the place to obtain complete rejuvenation. Designed to soothe and refresh the senses, the Spa Village is made up of several low buildings with indoor and outdoor spaces, an herb garden, lotus ponds and reflexology path.
“The complex comprises eight treatment pavilions, a deluxe Belian Treatment Pavilion, “Healing Huts,” which include Chinese herbal, Ayurvedic and Malay Huts, a “Wrap House”, where the menu changes daily with Ayurvedic Herbal, Seaweed and Chinese Herbal Wraps, 2 Bath Houses, 3 Thai Pavilions, 3 Nap Gazebos, a Herbal Garden, a 50 meter lap pool, Fisherman’s Cove Restaurant, Jamu Bar, Library and Spa Boutique. 22 brand new Spa Villas situated over the sea offer direct access to the Spa Village.”
- Excerpt from the official website
There are various spa packages at different pricing to suit the individual. The Ultimate Spa Experience package comes in either half day or full day package. There is also a Custom Package or Traditional Package. Then there are Body Treatments and Massage Therapy. You can have it the Malay, Thai, Balinese, Swedish, Shiatsu (Japanese pressure point technique) or Aroma Massage style. For more pampering, you can also go for a facial, manicure and pedicure. Hair care is also part of their services. In fact, the Spa Village provides so many different kinds of luxurious services that it is really up to you to check it out. There are Tai Chi Quan, yoga, healing programs, Ayurvedic oil therapy, and so much more. There are also private consultations offered by the Chinese and Ayurvedic specialist.
All in all, a visit to Pangkor Laut has only one main purpose - to be in tune with God and nature, and to experience the most relaxing moments ever. A good quote to sum up the place is taken from Luciano Pavarotti, the famous tenor who once stayed at Pangkor Laut. He proclaimed–
“This place is enchanting. It is paradise. This morning when I woke up, I went out and I was moved, almost crying to see what beautiful things God has done.”
February 28th, 2006
In a small northern state called Kedah, in the small Southeast Asian country of Malaysia, there is a tiny town called Kuala Muda. In the tiny town of Kuala Muda, there is a little fishing village, which is also called Kuala Muda.
The people who live in the little village make their living off the sea. Every day, except for Hari Raya Puasa, a Muslim holiday after the fasting month of Ramadhan, they go out in their rickety little boats called sampans which are powered by little diesel engines, and hope for a big catch.
On Boxing Day last year, very few fishermen went out to sea because three families in the village held a kenduri, or a party where the entire community participates in cooking and eating the food. The kenduri was held in three of the houses nearer inland, close to town. Most of the villagers were there, eating and meeting with their neighbours.
But in a house nearer to the shore, a devout little old lady had decided to carry out her afternoon prayers first, figuring that she would join her neighbours later.
She never joined her neighbours. As she was praying a huge wave came up from the sea and swallowed her, her little wooden house and much of the village. What the tsunami could not swallow, it wrecked .
Welcome to Kampung Kuala Muda, scene of devastation, post-tsunami. Here, more than 100 families lost their homes and their means of a livelihood, as their houses were wrecked beyond redemption and their sampans smashed to bits. Along the west coast, in little villages, fishermen and their families wept, wondering how to survive and how to rebuild their lives from the wreckage. What will they do to support their families? How can they rebuild their lives? Who will help them?
Sure, the loss of live was minimal here, compared to places like Sri Lanka or Banda Aceh or the Maldives. In total, lives lost numbered in the tens and hundreds of thousands. So what are a few lives compared to that huge number? What are the woes of a few villages in one of the more progressive nations in the Southeast Asian region compared to the devastation that had hit poorer countries?
But the fishing folk of Malaysia are among the poorest of the poor. In a country where the average monthly household income is RM 3,200, fisherman up north or along the east coast of Malaysia earn less than RM600 a month. (US$1=RM3.80)
In total, some 3,000 families comprising fishermen and farmers in the state of Kedah were affected by the tsunami. According to Mercy Malaysia, a Malaysian medical aid organisation, more than 1,000 houses and fishing boats costing more than RM2.5 million were lost.
Two days after the tsunami hit, Mercy Malaysia put out an SOS to the four-wheel drive community in the country. They were needed to help with transporting clothes, blankets, food, water and stationary to the affected villages in the island state of Penang and Kedah. Within three hours, more than 20 4×4s had rallied to the call.
On Dec 29, 2004, the trucks and volunteers met up at the headquarters of Nationwide Express, a logistics company that is a corporate partner of the aid organisation. Unfortunately, there was miscommunication and the convoy was delayed by several hours, as Nationwide had decided to hold a press conference on highlighting its mercy mission. The journey, which would ordinarily take about three hours, dragged on as the four-wheel drive convoy was further delayed because they had to wait and wait and wait at pit stops along the highway for very senior officers of the logistics company that had decided to come along in their comfortable sedans to the villages for a look-see. The experience culminated in the Malaysian four-wheel drive community vowing not to work with organisations and groups that were more interested in publicity than in actually helping those affected by disaster.
When they reached the town, there was further disorganisation. Nobody knew what to do or where to go to deliver the items the convoy had brought up. So the leaders of the four-wheel drive convoy took over.
But the trip was not wasted. The volunteers, who had initially thought they would help clear up the affected site, were taken to the village, which had been cordoned off by the military.
The scenes that greeted us were heartbreaking. Mud-streaked cars smashed up against the remnants of walls of collapsed houses, a ball of twisted metal barely recognisable as a child’s tricycle resting precariously on the top of a pile of drying shrubs, a tree that had toppled on to the top of a roof. And this had happened to the poorest of the poor. What was worse was, a few days before the tsunami hit, the fishermen had had record catches; fish were practically swimming into their nets. They had sold their catches and stuffed the money in their cupboards and under their mattresses and which ever other place in their homes they had thought safe. And now, all of it was gone.
Those affected had been relocated to nearby mosques and schools. But there was a problem. School started. They had to move out. The problem is still being resolved. The government had offered to build them houses. But where do poor people who have now been reduced to nothing get RM 20,000 to pay for houses?
Some volunteers of the four-wheel drive community stayed overnight and went back to the village the next day to help with some clearing up. The villagers were grateful for their assistance, as these guys had the proper equipment - chainsaws, axes, winches, snatch straps - to pull down structures, pull out cars and clear debris. But the volunteers and their trucks had to leave in the afternoon because the military was securing the area for a visit by the deputy Prime Minister.
Volunteers from the four-wheel drive community have since assisted other aid organisations with collecting, sorting, packing and transporting items to those affected in Kedah and even Aceh. Some have returned to the village to help with the clean-up. It is the least they can do for those who have had their lives turned upside down by a big wave.
February 28th, 2006
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