The journey is the reward

The journey is the reward-

I again purposely made no plans and had no itinerary for Malaysia. How I even ended up in Malaysia at this time was by chance of a cheap flight from Sri Lanka to Singapore, then just kinda being in the neighborhood I figured I’d give it a whirl. I knew very little of Malaysia before landing. In my Kuala Lumpur guesthouse I met a cool girl at the end of her stay that handed me her guide book. In our conversation she said she regretted not making it to Langkawi. I gave her the “awe that’s too bad, maybe next time” routine, while what was running through my mind was “what the hell is a Langkawi?” I had never before even heard of it, let alone had it pegged for a stop on the map. Armed now with my guidebook (I waited till she left) I started to research it a bit. The opening line to the description from the Good Book (Lonely Planet) says “Langkawi is synonymous with tropical paradise”. Well, good enough for me! I booked a flight the next day.

Langkawi is an island off the northeastern tip of the country, about a 3 hour ferry ride from Phuket, Thailand. It’s the most liberal place in Malaysia, which is otherwise a very conservative country and completely dry in most places. After some research, and more valuable advice from the Good Book, I decided on a small inexpensive guesthouse. The other option was a bungalow on the beach which was still relatively affordable, but the guesthouse was going to give me a better shot and meeting some cool people. I figured I’d check the guesthouse out for a night and move to a bungalow if I wasn’t feeling it. After a very frustrating day of traveling (long story, not worth it) I got to The Gecko Guesthouse and, before dropping my bags, decided I’d unwind with 1 beer first. Immediately as I sat down at my table I get called over by the only two other people at the bar/restaurant to come hang out with them. One was a local named Roslan who’s 41, looks 25, and acts 19. He’s a reputable cook at neighboring resort, that everyone calls Chef. He has a hysterical laugh and his 3-4 missing front teeth make it more contagious than it already would be. The other was a 63 year old solo traveler from New Zealand named Robert who has been on the road for 6 years and currently living at the guesthouse. He is youthful, but weathered, with a shaved head and striking resemblance to Mr. Magoo. Three hours and several rounds latter I figure I’d better drop off my bag and take a look at my room. By this point I had given up on the beach bungalow (that I hadn’t even seen) and was already trying to negotiate a lower rate for extended stay. As I would later find out from several people throughout the night the island of Langkawi has a secret curse; People get stuck here and don’t leave.

Robert’s was fun to talk with because if ever I made a point of something he would lean forward and repeat it back to me slower and with more emphasis, in a sort of validating way. He would do it right on the tail end of my sentence so blindly that it was basically like having someone agree with everything I said… and who doesn’t like that? “Nice people here in Malaysia” I’d say and he’d follow-“There are, NICE, PEOPLE here in Malaysia!”… (Me)- “Can’t beat this place” (him)- “You, CANNOT, beat this place!” (Me)- “nothing is better than the people you meet traveling” (him)- “NOTHING, is better, than the people you meet traveling, thats right, that’s right!” It got to the point early where I tested my theory and had him repeating phrases I know he would never be say on his own. “when life hands you lemons you need to make lemonade”, “it’s always darkest before dawn”, “not all those that wonder are lost”… Every time he would repeat it back to me without fail. His 63rd birthday was 3 days ago so Chef and I decided we were going to take him out and find him a girlfriend. “No good stories start with someone going to sleep early” I told him… “There are NO good stories, starting with someone going to sleep early!” He told me back.

We started at an awesome reggae bar right on the beach called Babylon. While everywhere else on the island uses canned beer they had bottles, and I completely blew Chefs mind by opening a bottle with a lighter. He declared it to be magic. This is from a guy that has a video on his phone of him flipping tappanyaki knives behind his back. He kept handing me bottles and inviting people he knew over to see me do it again. I was a hit. From Babylon we moved to a small nightclub type place called Sandba. It was a decent little place and was the first time I heard EDM in 4 months. As old habits die hard I found myself secretly critiquing the DJ, who actually wasn’t that horrible. Our last stop for the night was another reggae bar called One Love. By the time we left One Love I was playing the tambourine with the band getting approving nods from the lead singer and although I know its just a tambourine, you can’t convince me that I didn’t rock that shit. The whole time, at every place, The Chef was a dancing machine, had all the moves and knew all the local ladies. He was like a Malaysian mood director. Before I knew it it was 4:30am marking, by far, the latest I had been out since leaving Sydney. Throughout the night Mr. Magoo’s name went from Robert, to Grandpa, to Godfather to Birthday Boy. Unfortunately we were unable to set up the Birthday Boy with a lady, but he matched Chef and I drink for drink for about 12 hours. I had to walk with him, arm around waist, back to the guesthouse when we finally called it a night. We were proud of the old man. As he was stumbling he mutters “man what a journey tonight”. I say to him “the journey is the reward right?”… “That’s right, that’s right, the journey IS the reward!” He walks into his room and closes the door and I’m left standing there for a second thinking how perfect of a way that was to end the night.

Bob