Thursday, September 9

Penang, Malaysia

by Susan MacTavish Best

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Wednesday, September 8, Penang

 

I have blisters on the sole of my right foot. There goes my theory that only taking Birkenstocks and Tevas was the way to go. Not only do they NOT prevent blisters, but it just occurred to me today that open-toofie shoes makes my toe nail varnish come off faster. Normally, I wouldn't care. But, you see, I told Rachel that the day I left San Francisco I'd get a pedicure. And so I did. And then I told Rachel that when all the nail varnish came off, it would be time for me to come home. In my mind, I was betting on, at least, a safe four months. I looked down today and there was a big chip right there on my big toe nail. Right there in the middle of my polyester, Palm Beach, peach flavored nail. Bah.

Well, I did go on that off-the beaten-track hike yesterday. You know, the one where I was scared that there were going to be lots of monkeys. The aim was to just keep walking along the trail until I came to the perfect beach. I walked for an hour and didn't see any perfect beach. But, the trail was pleasant enough as it followed the edge of the rainforest. Where the rainforest dropped into the ocean. In some parts, there was that sweet, heavy smell of crap mixed in with the sea air. I never did figure out where it was coming from. Eventually, I did come to a decent looking beach; not perfect. It turned out to be the Marine Biology Center for the University of Malaysia. The lab assistant there told me the students only ever arrived by boat. I sat on the beach for a while and read until a stringy looking middle aged guy wandered along. His name was Tony and he was from Leeds.

Tony from Leeds and I continued along the trail. Turned out he'd done lots of walking in the Lake District in England as well as up in Scotland so we yakked about various peaks we'd walked up in those areas. Typical of the understated British to always use the term walking whereas Americans use the term hiking. Tony and I kept having to take off our packs so that we could get on all fours and crawl under fallen trees.

"Ohhhh. Ah seh yur yoused ta scramblin', you are," Tony said to me as I crawled on all fours up a sweaty boulder.

We were off the beaten path. Far away from the Dipsea Trail, that's for sure. Eventually, we did come to the perfect beach. Some of the swanky hotels offered the beach as a picnic destination for their guests so we weren't alone. Tony decided he was going to keep walking until he came to the lighthouse on the map. I looked up at the big clouds and I decided I wanted to head back. I went for a quick swim first.

I saw a crocodile. On my way back to the fishing village. I saw it first so I was OK with it. I saw it as it crawled into the water. I watched it as its eyes glided across the water, its body submerged. And I didn't really register it was a crocodile until I got back to the hotel and I went down to the tour operator's desk and I described what I'd seen. She pulled out photos from a nearby National Park and pointed to the crocs. Yup, that's what I saw, I told her. It wasn't particularly big; maybe five feet long which I think means it was just a teenager (Ohhh! It's just now occurring to me that Mom and Dad might have been lingering nearby.) She told me I was very lucky to have seen it. I went to school with a girl who tragically was eaten by a crocodile in Africa.

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