As a long-term traveller, my stimulation and excitement has generally come from moving constantly and seeing new places. Here though, having stayed put on this island for over a month, I've been enjoying a different type of travel experience. Instead of aiming for, and focusing on checking off the big 'Wonders of the World', I'm doing the opposite. I have unintentially changed perspective and am enjoying a 'macro' travel experience, focusing on, and drawing value from the small and seemingly insignificant interactions that make up my days here.
Italian-sarong wearer: Introduced in 'Musings from the Couch'. A couple of things to update on regarding the Italian-sarong wearer. One: He is still only wearing sarongs, day in, day out and is still as smiley as ever (I wonder if it has anything to do with the freedom the sarong allows?). Two: I have to confess, it turns out he is not Italian (as I previously reported) and is actually British. Slight mix up. On reflection I realise I'd only heard the Italian British-sarong wearer say, 'Welcome to the sarong club,' and weirdly didn't notice his accent. In my defense, his wife, 'wicked squirrel face lady' (see below)is Italian. I double checked.
Wicked squirrel face lady: On first read I'm sure that sounds offensive and rude, but it's really not. She's an Italian beauty, who in no way looks similar to any type of rodent. EXCEPT when she proudly goes around making 'wicked squirrel face' on demand. I'd only heard about it from others but one day I saw her walking past and seized the opportunity, wanting to confirm the rumours. Sure enough, she contorted her face, scrunched up her nose and wiggled it, just like a wicked squirrel.
Boss-man: I heard a commotion on the path outside our hut and opened the door to see what was happening. The Fridge was yelling and laughing in his Malay accent, 'You're shorts are too high, old man! Too high around your waist and too short on the legs!' to the Boss-man. Boss-man took this as an invitation and pulled them up higher so they were up near his nipples and then, pelvis first, started to chase The Fridge. The Fridge, being the epitomy of fitness, darted behind him like a ninja and swiftly grabbed the elastic waistband and yanked with full force, giving the 62-year-old Boss-man a high-pitched, squeal-inducing wedgie. Just your average professional employer/employee interaction.
Bats: There are too many bats here. Ordinarily, I like bats. I think they're cute in an 'ugly-baby' kind of way. But here, I am disproportionally outnumbered by them and I know it. I have taken a somewhat uneducated guess that the human to bat ratio is 1:1000000000000000000000000. I'm sure I'm close. They fly into the open-walled restaurant and flap about in a unpredictable, haphazard manner. Customers eating quickly duck and cover their heads with their hands while simultaneously trying to cover their plates, unsure of which is more worthy of protecting amidst the panic. When walking down the road at night, the bats swoop at your face at approximately a thousand miles per hour. Then at the very last second come to their senses (get it?! 'senses') and change their route. Each step taken is a narrowly avoided bat/face collison. Last night, one flew into my boyfriend and I's little A-frame hut. When I say little hut, I mean tiny. Almost the entire interior is filled with a mosquito net that hangs over a mattress on the floor. A mosquito net that is as good at keeping bats in as it is at keeping mosquitoes out, it would seem. The bat was hysterical. We were hysterical. After a while, it freed itself and flew out the door, where we were standing watching unhelpfully. Another near bat/face collison. On realising it nearly hit us, it freaked and flew back inside and got caught in the net. Again. Eventually, it re-freed itself and flew out for good (we hope). That's just some of the bats. God knows what the other millions are up to.
Kitchen nightmares: I don't know who is responsible for this. What I do know now is that it's possible to make hot water with lime wrong. Apparently it is more difficult than it appears. The first time I ordered it, the tiniest lime slice I've ever seen or imagined was sunk in the bottom of my mug, barely visible due to it's transparency. The next time I ordered hot water with lime, I (generously?) got a whole lime. Not sliced, just an entire lime, straight off the tree, bobbing in the water, peel and all. No such thing as a happy medium here.
Tea bags: I know I already talked about hot drinks once this installment, but I can't not include this. It just stared me in the face. Literally. Here, the teabags are put in the mug, string and all. The kitchen hasn't yet mastered the 'wrap-the-string-around-the-handle-trick' so if you haven't been lucky enough to be given a spoon, you have to fish the teabag out with your finger. Just now, I was pleasantly surprised to see my tea had the teabag already taken out for me. But, when I drank my last sip, there was the tag stuck to the bottom of the inside of the mug. It's square 'Lipton' face, clung on, staring at me. A little yellow reminder of how naive I was to have thought I might have been so lucky as to have had, for once, a normal, tag free cup of tea.
Cart man: While my boyfriend and I were walking along the road to the minimart, a man on a motorbike with a side trailer slowed down and pulled up beside us and gestured for us to get in. We politely declined as it wasn't a far walk. He asked again. We declined, again. He asked again, again. We decline again, again. He refused to take no for an answer and kept sitting there, smiling and gesturing for us to get in. We realised it was stalemate and as we didn't want to be rude by walking off on him we climbed in and crouched in the little side-cart. He drove us the 30 seconds to the minimart, making a sudden sharp 'semi-donut' turn in the sand to position us literally on the doorstep. Without another word, he sped off, continuing on his journey, leaving us standing in the doorway wondering blankly, 'what just happened?'
The children: My faith in childrens' ability to be creative and resourceful has been restored. A group of about six kids invented a game out on the road today. They each took off a flip flop and stood it upright, leaning it on the other flip flops in a teepee-type formation. They then took turns throwing their remaining flip flop from a distance, discus-style, at the teepee in an attempt to knock it down. It might not be the most complex of games but it sure beats doing the equivalent on an iPad by themselves. And really, who am I to talk? Yesterday As a kid I played 'throw-my-marbles-over-the-garden-fence-then-try-to-find-them-again' for no reason.
If you take the time to look closely, you can find entertainment value in the smallest of things. I'm still not sure if it's the particular assortment of people on this island that are so interesting or just the fact that I have too much more time on my hands to take a closer inspection. Consciously choosing to focus my attention on the finer details of the goings on and personalities around me is resulting in a much different travel experience. One that's proving to be much richer than simply being destination focused.
Read also:
1. 'Characters of Tioman'
2. 'Characters of Tioman: Musings from the Couch'
3. 'Characters of Tioman: Amusing and Absurd'