Day 124 - Perhentian Kecil
And so, what cure for a broken heart? (tiny, plastic violins strike up)
I'd arrived on the Perhentian Islands mid-morning after a little 14-hour bus journey. And nothing much tends to happen on a scuba island mid-morning. The dive boats are out and anyone too hungover to make the early dive had yet to surface. I wandered into Ohlala dive shop and found it deserted. Deserted that is except for Ben. He bade me sit down, made me a coffee and inducted me into his friendship circle (though current attendance was two). Now this wasn't me finally losing my grip on reality and conversing with an unimaginatively named alter-ego. Or if It was I had at least made him Dutch for some variety. And if you want to go down the road that all 'reality'
is somewhat the product of our imagination then do it on your own time (which is, presumably, infinite). Ben didn't even work at Ohlala, he'd just taken a break from diving that day and since the dive shop was also his accommodation where else would he go really? We shot the breeze until small boats began puttering towards the shore. I was thankfully far enough from home that no white guys with bulldog tattoos appeared and began shouting at them. Aside from the ferry dock, which was far too large for them, there were no other jetties for the dive boats to pull up to. Instead they got as close as they could and then oxygen tanks were tossed overboard and divers followed clutching the rest of their gear. Once it had been hosed down in freshwater and hung out to dry I managed to collar one of the Divemasters and book a package of dives and accommodation. For 340 ringgit, a mere £60, I got four dives and two nights accommodation which is really quite incredible. I congratulated myself on the decision to come here as I unpacked my bag.
Ben had outlined the the evening itinerary before we parted ways. It consisted of wandering over to the beach and stopping for beers at the hut that sold them cheapest. Then getting a burger from a nearby shack whose owner Ben had befriended. Then it was down to the end of the beach for the fire show. After that the DJ starts up and the night is danced away metres from gently lapping waves. It was a solid itinerary. That first night it was Ben and I, his brother Jonathan, a workshy Frenchman called Simon, a small Dutch couple called Iris and Nathan, an average-sized Dutchwoman called Cathy, and the Frenchwoman. There was an in-joke in circulation that meant someone started singing 'Baby shark' every 15 minutes or so. It was something to do with the Frenchwoman. I joined in the laughing at the execrable song in that ingratiating and rather sad way that you have when you join an established group. They were a very easy crowd to get along with though all-in-all. The fire shows were mighty displays much like the ones I saw on Ko Samet. The format was tweaked a little every evening but basically consisted of guys swinging burning bolas at high speed.
Buzzed at my instant acceptance into the group I threw myself with vigour into the dancing afterwards. The other way to get over a broken heart? Get back on the horse. The Frenchwoman and I had hit it off and caroused the night away until she decided she was turning in. And, though I couldn't see it, a sliding door appeared on that beach that night.
Yeah, good questions. I had been having a little too much fun to pay much attention to her exit the previous night. Still, I reassured myself, tonight was another night and we'd do it all again. Indeed, after doing the morning and lunchtime dives, I was back at the cheap beer shack. Everything was the same. Except it wasn't. The rapport I had with the Frenchwoman had evaporated. Trying harder and harder to re-establish it just made her pull further and further away. I danced closer to her like a 12-year old at a school disco, she went off to get a drink. In group conversations she would barely address me. Sweat and desperation seeped from my pores and I silently howled at the complexities of people. Cathy pulled me aside to reassure me that there was still interest despite all appearances. She offered to sound her out and, to my enduring shame, I let her. It had felt like a slow execution up to that point but here was the coup-de-grace.
All this played out against tremendous times though. I met a horde of excellent people on the island and we shared trips to Turtle Beach, birthdays on the sand and lined up to let fire bolas be swung dangerously close to our faces. 
Alex, Ben, Cathy, Darren, Holly, Iris, Jonathan, Katy, Kieran, Kim, Lucas, Luke, Nathan, Nenia, Simon, you were great. In feelings reminiscent of Utila I knew I could settle into life on the island indefinitely. But once again I knew that I mustn't, there was still too much to see. Things with Kim had settled down into a kind of friendship, though having to watch her utilise her agreement with one of the Divemasters on the last evening didn't exactly fill me with joy. It added a frisson of tension to our decision to travel on from the island together. Kuala Lumpur had toughened me up though and I'd grown more used to life's ridiculous twists and turns, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
It is better to be.
- Distance - I was 438km from Kuala Lumpur
- Sun - it beat down
- Sea - ...onto the glistening blue waves
- Sand - over there between the land and the sky
SexScuba - my name was on the board
Ben had outlined the the evening itinerary before we parted ways. It consisted of wandering over to the beach and stopping for beers at the hut that sold them cheapest. Then getting a burger from a nearby shack whose owner Ben had befriended. Then it was down to the end of the beach for the fire show. After that the DJ starts up and the night is danced away metres from gently lapping waves. It was a solid itinerary. That first night it was Ben and I, his brother Jonathan, a workshy Frenchman called Simon, a small Dutch couple called Iris and Nathan, an average-sized Dutchwoman called Cathy, and the Frenchwoman. There was an in-joke in circulation that meant someone started singing 'Baby shark' every 15 minutes or so. It was something to do with the Frenchwoman. I joined in the laughing at the execrable song in that ingratiating and rather sad way that you have when you join an established group. They were a very easy crowd to get along with though all-in-all. The fire shows were mighty displays much like the ones I saw on Ko Samet. The format was tweaked a little every evening but basically consisted of guys swinging burning bolas at high speed.
Why didn't you walk her home?asked Ben the next day as our oxygen tanks clanked down onto the floor of the boat.
Why didn't I walk her home?asked Ben the next day as he took off his flippers.
Yeah, good questions. I had been having a little too much fun to pay much attention to her exit the previous night. Still, I reassured myself, tonight was another night and we'd do it all again. Indeed, after doing the morning and lunchtime dives, I was back at the cheap beer shack. Everything was the same. Except it wasn't. The rapport I had with the Frenchwoman had evaporated. Trying harder and harder to re-establish it just made her pull further and further away. I danced closer to her like a 12-year old at a school disco, she went off to get a drink. In group conversations she would barely address me. Sweat and desperation seeped from my pores and I silently howled at the complexities of people. Cathy pulled me aside to reassure me that there was still interest despite all appearances. She offered to sound her out and, to my enduring shame, I let her. It had felt like a slow execution up to that point but here was the coup-de-grace.
Ah, no, she's not interested.Rarely have I felt so pathetic in a moment. That thing I said about getting back on the horse? Well this dead cheval had been thoroughly flogged.
Want to go for a night swim?asked the attractive Dutchwoman. Well, as one sliding door closes another....suffice to say this time I stepped through it. Into a no-less confusing situation. You see Kim had a boyfriend but she also had an agreement. So that's ok then. Or is it? She seemed unsure of how to operate said agreement and the next couple of days became a will we/won't we back-and-forth that left me wondering if my relations with the opposite sex would ever be simple again. ;
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