Perhentian Islands to Chiang Mai

A good, juicy, bloody soft steak is hard to find in South East Asia. Usually the meat is tough, rubbery, with a sweet sauce seeping into fatty tendons. I have just had the best steak of my life, cooked to rare perfection, with a spicy South American sauce on top. And it was cooked not in a resort, but in a shanty Spanish restaurant, by two former Nobu and Mayfair restaurant chefs chopping and frying their way along the hippy trail.

The Perhentian Islands nestle in the north of Malaysia, near the border with Thailand. To say they are stunning would be an understatement, every beach I have been to in Asia has been stunning or beautiful or lovely, but the Perhentians are something else. The water is so clear and blue it looks like a swimming pool, so still and serene. The sand is pure white and as fine as flour. There are no ATMs on the islands, no payphones, and if you want to use the internet, you should be prepared to walk far and pay over the odds. But for some reason, this tiny island not only looks like paradise, but is a haven for fresh food, cocktails, and the ever popular 'monkey juice' (local rum).

After a mammoth train journey from Kuala Lumpur, me and Will arrived at Pulau Kecil in the morning. Padding off down the beach, we came across a bloke called Glynn- we met him in Borneo and he and Will bonded over whisky- I say bonded, I mean at three am they sat outside our hut hugging and declaring their special friendship with eachother. Will was sick in the sink shortly after. Anyway, Will was really happy to see Glynn because he knew that meant a bit of pub time, so we had a hunt for some accomodation.

Perhentian popularity has soared quicker than the island could keep up, everywhere was full save a dorm room up on the hill. As we got there, Norman, the friendly but dim receptionist, led us to our cramped dorm, that had no electricity until night time. Now, Norman was an interesting creature- shaved legs and a feminine face- surely a woman? But hoarse voice, and the name... found out two days later when we asked for him/her and another bloke said 'the boy is not here'. Anyway, im side tracking... we were a bit skint on the island what with all the lovely cocktails, steaks, and rum, so could only really do one dive- I won't go into detail, but it was called T2, went round lots of underwater boulders and swim throughs, very fun. We moved out of our dorm after a few nights, and moved into a chalet that was surrounded by monitor lizards.

Saturday night was ladies night on the island, free drinks for ladies, and men who dress as ladies. Well, Will and Glynn had a lovely time with flowers in their hair fondling their fake breasts (indeed fitting in with the locals... ladyboys I mean, not perverts who go round fondling). Had some great boozy nights, and met some lovely people. (I will definitely put pics up soon...)

One thing that tarnished our experience- theft. When we pulled up on our first day, Glynn seemed withdrawn and down- he had his wallet, passport, and journals stolen the night before. The story was the same with other people we met; cameras, cash all stolen. A friendly locksmith told us that there were some local drug addicts that lived on the island, who would nick if there was an opportunity. After four perfect days we left Glynn behind to get a new passport, while we headed for Thailand.

The morning we left, Will felt a bit worse for wear; he had gone to 'the pub' (shack with a fridge and cushions) the night before, so of course getting up at 7, and going on an incredibly bumpy boat made him feel great. We weren't really sure how we were going to get to Thailand- the southern provinces are notorious for terrorist attacks and insurgences from people fighting for independence. Anyway, after some dodgy local buses, we walked over the deserted border post and almost trotted right past passport control.
'Where the bloody hell do we go now'?
'Um. Dunno.. motorbike taxi?'

Hopped on the back of a motorbike, wind in my hair, felt like some sort of spy crossing border. Got to Sungai Kolok train station- walked over the tracks to the entrance. Remembered when saw mugshots of wanted men that in 2008 said train got bombed.

'Bugger, shall we get the bus?'
'Why?'
'Um, well, just remembered, the train was a bit bombed a few years back. Lots of terrorists'
"********* sake ***, well we can't get the bus, we'll have to..."

Lots of men with kalasnikovs and big guns, very reassuring. Train was fine incidentally, me and Will had bunk beds, had our dinner next to a soldier. He smiled, I said 'big gun'. He nodded, felt uncomfortable, went to find Will.

Woke up 22 hours later pulling into Bangkok. Became so bored on the train that I read Harry Potter, which was alright actually. Will was overjoyed and gleeful (geek) that I could finally have some Dumbledore banter with him. Bangkok was completely quiet, the old Khao San Road that heaved in the day with people was pretty dead- cars driving down the road without having to toot, few tuk tuks careering madly round corners. I was vaguely disappointed, but lots of guesthouses and restaurants had some good discounts. Anyway, yesterday was my birthday, so I am off to slip off and join Will in our hotel's infinity pool.... More blog to follow.