Chillaxing in Cherating

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28 November 2010

After four nights in KL sleeping in a very nice room but one that lacks windows, it was time to move on. Where the day was to take us was a complete mystery to me since I yesterday I left Gregg to do all of the deciding. I had heard the words ‘east coast’ and ‘surf’ and assessed that I was not suitably qualified to participate in this particular decision making process.

Initially, the plan had been to find our way to the east coast and then take a boat to Tioman, however during the rainy season the boats are often suspended and we were worried that it we made it there we might end up marooned. Gregg also discovered that this is ‘the’ island to visit on the east coast and that, accordingly, accommodation prices are inflated. Instead, the plan was to make our way to the beach at Cherating with Gregg declaring “…the more I read about it, the more I like the sound of it…”.

So, the alarm woke at 7.30am and we partook of free breakfast of tea and toast (very British and not particularly rewarding) and then heaved our backpacks onto our backs and headed for the monorail. We alighted at the end of the line and found ourselves in one of KL (M-for Dad)’s bus stations. The bus that we wanted was the long distance to Kuantan. and Gregg had read that those buses depart every hour. Out task therefore was to fund the appropriate company to purchase a ticket from, which turned out to be particularly easy.

Half an hour or so later, we found ourselves on board our bus which had pairs of seats in the front half and three individual seats per width in the back half. Ingenious, in our view. It took us five minutes or so to realised that the letters MA and MD on our respective tickets were actually seats numbers and, with that sorted, we were installed for the journey.

Again, we wound our way across Malaysia, through sprawling green terraces and jungle until four hours later we arrived in Kuantan. Having taken a few minutes to establish the timings of buses for our return journey (we won’t be going back to KL but we will have to go back as far as Kuantan) we consulted the guide book which indicated that we needed a local bus which was on the other side of town. So, back packs restored to position, we headed off. Two thirds of the way towards our destination, it suddenly popped into my head that it would have been sensible to check that we did need to go elsewhere for the bus that we needed but, by that stage, there was no point in turning around to check.

We arrived at exactly the point where the bus station was supposed to be and found only a 7eleven a pretty empty square of tarmac resembling a car park. Fortunately, the 7eleven had a cash machine and we needed some of that so we went inside and replenished our funds and bought a drink each. As we were paying, we asked the cashier whether we were in the right place for the bus to C….ting. Unsurprisingly, we were not and he seemed to indicate that we needed to go the stadium - which was where we had come from.

We decided to take a taxi because I was struggling with the heat. He took us to the stadium, but it wasn’t where we had come from and we were both a little sceptical as to whether we had been ripped off and just dumped in some random place in Kuantan. Luckily, the taxi driver was honest and we eventually located the decrepit local bus that would bring us to our final destination. The air-con on this vehicle was au naturelle and, actually, rather refreshing. As in Vietnam, you pay the conductor and not the driver here and she kindly made sure that we got off at the correct stop.

The stop of Cherating is on a main road and as the bus drove a way it felt as if we had been rather dumped in the middle of nowhere. A kind british guy who was also on our bus pointed us in the direction of the accommodation and, as we were heading that way, an Australian guy gave us directions to where he and his girlfriend were staying.

We arrived at the 300metre strip that it Cherating and decided to give the place that the Australian had recommended a go and that is how I come to be sitting on a veranda in Cherating writing this blog. The place has aircon but is, otherwise, pretty basic. It is frayed around the edges but is pretty clean it is, nevertheless, the kind of place that one, if not both, of us would have turned our noses up at 3 months ago. How times change.

Having missed out on lunch, we were starving so we went next door to a rasta café run by, I think, the same family that run our accommodation. The family seems to be huge and the youngest is the most beautiful little girl called Bella. She even has one tiny dreadlock!

29 November 2011

Boy, did it rain last night. It hammered down for all it was worth but, this morning, you really wouldn’t have a clue that that is how it had been. That is, until there was a short burst of rain during our breakfast. It was hot and humid and glorious. Today was a day for checking the surf and, otherwise, relaxing and that is precisely how it played out.

We checked the surf - not up to enough for Gregg to fancy hiring a board.

We took our books to the beach - almost deserted and exceptionally hot.

We took our books back to our bungalow and I read for Britain. My mission - to finish ‘The girl who kicked the hornets nest’ asap because I just HAVE to know what happens. This will be my 17th book of the trip and I have learnt how much I have missed reading over the past 8 years since I started working. The trouble at home always was that I read all day every day at work and had no room left for it outside of that. Memo to self - something has to change when I get home!

After a hefty afternoon of reading, we slipped next door for dinner and sat on the veranda reading until just after 8pm when our host came to collect us for a night time boat trip to see fire flies.

First things first…no light on the boat - you wouldn’t get away with that in the UK.

It seemed like we were the only people out there as the boat skimmed through the inky water beneath (I dread to think what is in it!) and neither of us really had any idea what to expect to see. In my own romantic way, I had half an idea that we might round a corner and find ourselves in a Avatar-esque scene (apologies to anyone reading this who hasn’t seen the movie) with the branches laden with lights over hanging the river. I also had a talk to myself about the fact that that was hardly likely to be the case - and it wasn’t.

There was, however, something mystical about the way little blinking dots hung around the trees and floated towards the flashing red light that our guide was using. Some settled on the boat and came with us down stream and others landing in our hair or on our clothes. Watching Gregg’s head blink like a fairy light had a certain amusement factor to it.

We were both absolutely mesmerised and 40 minutes passed in no time and then, just as we were feeling fire-flie’d out the rain came. How we weren’t completely drenched by the time we got back to our room, I have no idea but we were wet enough. Then, you’ve guessed it, more reading on the veranda before heading to bed in preparation for an early rise tomorrow.

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Photos

Empty streets of Bukit Bintang
We must have been up very early!

Gregg painting
Signing the wall, upon request.

La Plage
Cherating

Life guard hut
...but where are the guards?

From our veranda
some of the other bungalows

Firefly
The tiny blurred line is, I promise, a fire fly...not a pictorial opportunity designed for a point and shoot camera, alas.