Ti-Oh, Man!

There’s no telling what happened to them. The bus has been idling on the Johor Bahru side of the Singapore-Malaysia border for the better part of 30 minutes. Me personally, I skated through immigration. I forgot to fill out the digital arrival card but the guy barely glanced at my passport before stamping me through. But the others? No doubt they’re being detained by border security, subjected to some sort of James Bond/Guantanamo Bay-style enhanced interrogation.

Today I woke up before 5:00 a.m., an agonizing feat (although I did the same earlier in the week to watch NC State face off against Duke). My bus to Mersing left at 6:00 a.m. from the other side of Singapore. The pickup location had been changed at 8:30 p.m. the previous night – it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when the bus company changes the pickup spot less than 10 hours before the bus is scheduled to depart. Nevertheless, I was there at 5:45 on the dot, enough time to grab a dollar iced coffee from the hawker center attached to the bus depot. The hawker stalls are mostly shuttered in the pre-dawn darkness, but a few vendors were selling Nasi Lemak and wonton noodles for the budget-conscious morning munchers. Luckily for me, the bus was there. I found a window seat, armed with my coffee, and listening to the tail end of Frank Zappa’s “Joe’s Garage.” A thoroughly strange rock opera about having sex with robots, but damn the man could shred.

I did the same border crossing about a month ago, so I’m a seasoned pro. No getting tortured by paid goons for me. Eventually, we got rolling again and now we were trucking north to Mersing, a small coastal town from which I’ll catch my ferry to the island of Tioman.

In the meantime, allow me to complain about the travel situation. The times of buses from Singapore to Mersing and vice versa were limited in terms of variety. The ferry between Mersing and Tioman only ran once per day on the days of my arrival and departure. On the way to Tioman, my bus left at 6 am, but the ferry did not depart until 4 pm. On the way back, the ferry departed at 6 am, but the bus did not leave until 1:30 pm. As a result, I had a lot of time to kill in Mersing on both legs of my journey. And Mersing is a pretty small town, so there’s not much to do.

I hop off the bus shortly after 9:00 a.m. with my new friend Ben, a Singaporean in his early 30s also bound for Tioman. After hitting an ATM – there’s only one on the entire island – we quickly realized that most of the town is shuttered for Ramadan. Luckily thanks to Malaysia’s substantial Chinese minority, some local restaurants are open for business (side note: how do Muslim restaurant owners economically cope with Ramadan?) and after that early start, a bowl of handmade noodles in curry soup and a strong iced kopi is exactly what I needed. Over our respective breakfast soups, Ben and I chat about Singapore compared to the US, politics, travel, and more. he shares my reverence for the late great Anthony Bourdain.

After brunch, some fruitless trudging around in the hot sun on inadequate sidewalks – a reoccurring theme of my travels – results in a decision to hunker in the small but generously air-conditioned Mersing museum. Eventually, we get kicked out, but it’s just as well because it’s time to head to the jetty to board the ferry. Sitting amongst European tourists who look unhappy and sweaty, I realize that I must look just like them: a sobering thought. My dream of standing outside on the deck of the ferry are shortly dashed. The ferry is a tin can with fluorescent lighting and greasy windows that reeks of cigarettes and body odor. As we chug along, the water darkens from a shimmering aquamarine to a deep royal blue.

After about an hour, Tioman comes into view, looking for all the world like Jurassic Park. After saying farewell to Ben, I powerwalk down the jetty and onto the island. My lengthy and staggeringly inefficient journey has rewarded me with a tropical Eden. Coconut trees meet white sand beaches that melt into the seductive ocean – and it’s breathtakingly quiet. A little kid rides his bike past me as I walk along the only road presented.

Upon arriving to my hostel, the host led me to my dorm, taking care to hock a big loogie right in my path as I trailed behind him. Fortunately for him, he has several missing teeth so it’s easy to do so. The “dorm” was a small room maybe 10 ft by 10 ft, with two bunk beds, a rickety plastic locker, and a regular bed with my name on it. The beds appear to be homemade out of wood, and I’m glad I wasn’t assigned a bunk bed because I think it would have buckled under my weight. Luckily for me, it was adorned with a Winnie the Pooh and Tigger top sheet and pillow. the floor was rickety and sandy, and an AC unit pumped valiantly, but there were too many gaps in the walls for it to be effective. Based on the contents of the room I’ll be sharing it with at least two other guests: details as events warrant.

The room is a minor horror show, and the bathroom isn’t great either. But for $10 per night on a stunning tropical island, I can’t complain too much (yet).  After receiving a recommendation for dinner, I proceeded down the concrete path walking parallel to the ocean. I stopped to appreciate the sunset with my feet in the water, small boats floating a few hundred yards out.

The path continued, and at the end of it was a small shack with some tables and chairs in the sand. I was directed to open a large Styrofoam cooler. Inside were a plethora of fish, presumably caught fresh that day. I picked my specimen with a long pair of tongs and presented it to the chef. My options were steamed or fried spicy or not. I opted for fried spicy and sat with my toes in the sand. The sun had fully set now, and it was remarkable how dark it was and how late it felt despite it only being a quarter to eight. I reclined in my chair and took in the emerging stars as I waited for my ikan bakar. It arrived piping hot, zesty, and very spicy. I tore through it like a starving animal while my nose ran like a faucet from the generous serving of sambal.

As you might have deduced, there’s not much in the way of nightlife in my neck of the woods. Much of the island looks abandoned. So after appreciating the stars on the beach some more, I returned to the Aguna “Resort.”  The communal shower is in a small concrete building not unlike a pill box from World War II. Within a few minutes of flicking on the light, I was joined by a big mean-looking bee buzzing around the light. My shower was taken in fear my eyes never leaving the stinging pest, especially after another one appeared. I threw on my clean clothes and record time and opted to floss and brush my teeth at an outdoor sink.

I write this as I lay on my austere bed. thankfully the AC has cooled the room down quite significantly. It is currently shortly after 10:00 p.m., there has been no sight of my potential bunk mates. I’m exhausted from my early start and long day, so I’m going to turn in. Hopefully, my roommates won’t wake me, especially because the nearby mosque’s call to prayer will probably wake me at approximately 4:00 a.m.

Well, the mosque didn’t wake me up. My roommates materialized around midnight: and they’re employees of the hostel, including one of the old men who appears to run things around here. he snored. You know what? My bed and pillow could have been softer, but the room was cold and it was dark. After eating my complimentary breakfast – noodles, fried egg, and instant coffee – I’m stretched out in a hammock in the shade about 20 ft from the crystal clear water.

The beach is deserted, save for some divers in the distance, and the only sound is the gentle crashing of the waves and the occasional chirping of small birds. Having this picturesque paradise practically all to myself is well worth putting up with my meager accommodations. I sat on the beach literally all day. I left for lunch, to a little restaurant called “Mama’s Foodhouse.” I had found it on Google Maps the previous night, and tried to get in via WhatsApp messaging, but they were booked up. But when I went for lunch, it was empty. I enjoyed nasi ayam penyet: chicken that has been squeezed in a mortar and pestle to make it more tender before being deep-fried. It was covered in chicken floss, and crispy on the outside while being moist on the inside. Served with a fresh salad dressed with lime juice, it was delicious.

After returning to my beach hammock, I spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, listening to music, and reading. My tranquility was interrupted by a monkey defecating directly above me. I know it sounds like I made it up, but I was laying in the hammock half-asleep when something landed in the sand directly next to me with an audible plop. I looked up, and saw a monkey sitting on the powerline above me with his ass pointed menacingly at me. I yelled at him to leave and he did, and I thankfully avoided actually being struck with monkey poop.

A lot of this part of Tioman appears to be abandoned

I enjoyed the sunset on the beach, and then went back to Mama’s for dinner. Not usually something I would do in a new place, but there were maybe four restaurants to choose from, and my lunch was fantastic. So I returned and scarfed down some sort of green shrimp curry.

Staying at this hostel was a real test of my easygoingness. My room is directly next to the communal dining area, so I get inadvertently woken up at 7 am by employees because I can hear everything through the paper-thin walls. But I don’t really mind, because I might as well get an early start anyway.

The main attraction on Tioman is diving, apparently some of the best in Malaysia. Unfortunately, the prices for diving were not exactly at Malaysian levels (given the proliferation of tourists), so a diving trip would have doubled the cost of this entire venture. While I feel on some level that I’m missing out, I’m also a little wary of the safety end of things when it comes to diving expedition advertisements that assure me that no experience is necessary. I will be snorkeling though, to enjoy the same natural beauty for a fraction of the cost.

Early in the morning, I catch a ride on the island shuttle with a Chinese family who’s also staying at the hostel. The island is not all connected by roads, so to get to some parts, the shuttle with its soundtrack sounding like Bahasa Lil Baby is the only option. The shuttle takes me to another spot on the island, where a waterfall is waiting for me after a brief hike. It’s very refreshing in the humid jungle environment.

From there, I walk to the little town, and through the town towards a hike up to the “Dragon Horns.” Though signs on the outside warn of its difficulty, I decide to check it out. After about 45 minutes of getting lost in the jungle and sweating my ass off, I decided I would rather sit on the beach. I was also starving. But when I got back to town, there wasn’t anywhere open for lunch because of Ramadan. My lunch ended up being some nuts and whatever snacks I could find at the local minimart.

While that was unfortunate, I enjoyed the beach and did some snorkeling. Once I got back to my town, I had some mediocre nasi goreng from another restaurant, and called it a night shortly after, as I would have to rise before dawn to catch the ferry back.

Walking from the hostel to the jetty in the predawn darkness with the call to prayer sounding made for a surreal atmosphere. Thanks to the relative undevelopedness of Tioman, I was able to see a lot of stars, maybe the most I’ve ever seen save for camping at Crater Lake. The silver lining of waking up so early, besides being able to enjoy the stars again, was that I could catch the Final Four. I had watched NC State tear their way through the ACC tournament, and fell in love with big man DJ Burns, a center built like an offensive lineman with immaculate footwork and great touch around the basket. Despite being familiar with this squad prior to the tournament, I hadn’t picked them to go any further than the Round of 32. And here they were in the Final Four, facing off against the hated Purdue. As I sat on the ferry and used up the rest of my Malaysian cellular data, I watched Zach Edey play the least interesting style of basketball ever. A scenario I had unfortunately predicted had taken place: Burns was in early foul trouble after trying to guard Edey (who if he wasn’t 7’ 4”, would be back in Canada bagging milk). After an early double-digit deficit, the Wolfpack rallied to cut it to three right before the half. Unfortunately, they came out flat to start the second half and Purdue jumped back out to their lead and never looked back. A very sad outcome, but NC State’s run was incredible regardless. 

I had breakfast in Mersing at the same place as before, and then went back to the museum right as it opened at 9 to watch Alabama take on UConn, a back-and-forth battle before UConn pulled away in the latter stages of the second half. After a quick dosa and chai for lunch to use up the rest of my ringgit, I headed to the bus station and back to Singapore. A similar delay happened after crossing the border on foot, except for this time, the missing bus rider never surfaced, and we left him at the border after about 20 minutes of waiting. Hope that random French dude found his luggage

I have completed my semester here at Yale-NUS (save for one in-person exam that has become the bane of my existence), so look for some more travel content coming soon: Thailand and China!