Crowded Beach Time on Pangkor Island

“Gorgeous stretches of beach and hardly any people…the perfect place to hop over to if you’re after some isolated, low-key relaxation.”

That’s what we were expecting, thanks to our four year old guide book, when we arrived on Pangkor Island. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

The gorgeous stretch of beach was overshadowed by a long line of grey concrete shops selling the same crap t-shirts: I love Pangkor and Pangkor Hard Rock Café, despite there not being a Hard Rock Café within a 100 mile radius. The narrow stretch of sand remaining was cluttered with jet skis, banana boats, kayaks and an assortment of inflatables for thrill seeking Malaysian tourists.

And by gosh there were a lot of Malaysian tourists. Huge families bathing in the ocean fully clothed, screaming as they were dragged around on big inflatable doughnuts, speeding towards to beach on jet skis almost killing nearby swimmers.

At first glance we were a little disappointed with this supposedly isolated island, we’d unknowingly arrived not only during school holidays, but also on the weekend of a national public holiday.

Once we learned to look beyond the plastic bottles, polystyrene take-away food trays and abandoned flip flops that littered the beautiful white sand, it really was a beautiful island with clear turquoise waters and magnificent wildlife.

Hornbill at our hotel.

What we learned from the bus loads of Chinese tourists in Bangkok remains true for the majority of Asian tourists: they like crowds, safety in numbers. This meant that whilst the main beach near our hotel was shoulder to shoulder with Malaysians, the other nearby beaches were relatively quiet and we enjoyed some peaceful afternoons in the sun.

We were even able to wade out to our own little paradise, Coral Island, about 200m from the shore, which was nice until a speed boat deposited a boat load of screeching children and their parents alongside us.

Although it wasn’t the isolated retreat we envisioned, Pangkor made for a nice stop over on our way back south to Kuala Lumpur, giving us a couple of days to top up our tans before meeting my parents.

Ric wading out to Coral Island

How To Get To…

Pangkor: We travelled from George Town to Pangkor in one day, first taking the passenger ferry over to the mainland, then a bus to Lumut, and then a thirty minute ferry over to Pangkor.

We Stayed At…

Nipah Villas: we had a small but pleasant room in the back corner of the resort, hot shower, TV and wifi for 55 ringit (£11/$14).

Into Malaysia: Melaka

Unfortunately after just three days it was time to move on from Singapore to a less expensive city. We crossed the border into Malaysia on a pleasantly simple local bus journey which dropped us at the border town of Johor Bahru.

Our first impression of Malaysia was that the central bus stations are very well organised and the baked goods are disgusting. What I hoped would be a tasty savoury snack, purchased in a busy bakery, turned out to be a cream cake coated with spicy chicken. What a combination.

From the organised bus station of Johor Bahru we continued a few hundred kilometres up the west coast to the historical UNESCO town of Melaka.

What we didn’t expect when we arrived in Malaysia was that we would once again be faced with monsoon rains. After a summer of heavy rain in Thailand and Cambodia, followed by a typhoon which had us stranded for five days on an island in Vietnam, we were hoping to be over the worst of the weather as we headed into dry season. However, the dry winter season ends at Thailand’s southern border with Malaysia, and the monsoon begins again here. It’s bizarre that Thailand and Malaysia should have opposing seasons. The reason is that the monsoon we experienced in the summer comes from the west, while the monsoon currently soaking Malaysia comes from the east. The result is that we arrived in Malaysia and immediately scrapped all plans to travel up the east coast, as the resorts are all closed until February and the roads are dangerous to travel on in the rain. Instead, we went straight to Melaka, perhaps the most historical town on the peninsular.

Melaka's main square.

Historically, Melaka was a huge trading port which grew rich by trading spices. It was first colonised in the fifteenth century by the Portuguese, who remained for 130 years, leaving a distinct mark on the country’s heritage. Later it was colonised by the Dutch, and more recently by the British, before finally becoming independent in 1957. Today the town boasts several museums dedicated to displaying its colonial past, as well as being home to the old fashioned Chinatown, a couple of Catholic churches and a beautiful painted riverfront.

We enjoyed a relaxing river cruise past vividly painted colonial houses and a traditional Chinese village, and even spotted a monitor lizard swimming at the side of the bank. After that we walked around Chinatown and down the famous ‘Jonka Walk’, which really wasn’t worth all the hype. After a short jaunt up a hill to see a Portuguese Catholic church we’d pretty much seen all of Melaka. 

Painted houses along the river.

It’s a photogenic small town that can easily be visited in one day, but as we’d booked ahead for three nights we wisely spent our remaining time browsing shopping malls and going to the air-conditioned cinema.

Cycle rickshaws in Melaka really go the extra mile to decorate their bikes.

We Stayed At…

Backpacker’s Freak Hostel: one of the worst places we’ve ever been, a disappointing start to our time in Malaysia. Rooms with shared bathroom only from £7 (35ringit). Unfortunately the shared bathrooms are also used by the young boys who work there. We woke to find the toilets unflushed and covered in piss every day.

Biking Around The 4,000 Islands

With seven tourists crammed snugly into a narrow barge we set off along the Mekong, rocking and swaying, weaving around sandbanks and overgrown, uninhabited islands, to Don Khon, right on the Cambodia border. 

Don Khon has countless clusters of wooden bungalows built overlooking the river, each one offering beautiful views and a balcony complete with hammock. Ric and I, in search of peace and serenity, managed to book ourselves into the one place on the island hosting a 48 hour party for dozens of the owner’s friends and family. The loud, grainy music wasn’t too much of an annoyance compared to the revolting smell that came from meat left rotting in the sun. By the afternoon of the second day all the cooking had been done and everyone was too drunk to clean away the animal remains strewn around the yard behind our bungalow. The nauseating smell was accompanied by party guests who occasionally joined us on the balcony to spit or vomit into the river, and gangs of small children who thought our room was part of their playground and who tried to steal my ice-cream. To say we chose unwisely is an understatement. The party was in order to bless the house, which had been built exactly one year ago. The only respite from the Laos folk music straining over the speakers was when a group of monks and family elders performed a Buddhist blessing, chanting in a monotone only slightly less offensive than the music, and lighting enough incense to mask the stench of the meat.

Despite the poor choice of accommodation, Don Khon was a lovely place to spend a couple of days; it is a small island with a population of a few thousand people, somewhat overrun with tourists. Palm trees line the river, as do hippy cafes where travellers pass the day sitting on cushions on the floor, sipping fruit shakes and comparing notes on various sleepy destinations around Laos.

Grazing on the Mekong.

A single home perched on a river island (right). Don Khon bungalows (left).

Over a breakfast of surprisingly good omelettes, we joined forces with a girl from Sweden and another from France and set off on bicycles to find the rapids that slice across the Mekong. We found the first set of rapid with ease, 1.5km from the town. Somphamit falls, although they’re more rapids than waterfalls, crash over a landscape of black, volcanic rocks that would look more at home on the moon than on the edge of this peaceful, flat island. The bar overlooking the falls provided a perfect place to hide from the sun for a few hours and eat a local lunch of spicy papaya salad and sticky rice.

Invigorated after lunch, we decided to extend our bike ride and do a loop of the entire island. This proved to be more challenging than any of us had expected. The island had severe storms every night we stayed there and the roads were a mud bath; we were constantly getting the bikes stuck, having our flip flops swallowed by brown ooze, and occasionally falling off. 3.5km from Somphamit we reached the eastern tip of the island where we climbed to a view point overlooking the river. From here it is possible to see rare irrawady dolphins, but we weren’t that lucky.

Somphamit Falls.

Proceeding along the south side of the island the path got narrower and increasingly overgrown until we had to dismount to duck under trees, dense plant life surrounding us on all sides. When it came to crossing a collapsed bridge we were all questioning whether or not we’d taken a wrong turn, but eventually we emerged and crossed a wobbly suspension bridge onto a tiny island, surrounded by more rapids. Ric and the two girls stripped down to bathe in the Mekong and I was feeling a little jealous for I couldn’t bring myself to swim in my thong in front of the curious local fisherman. I had the last laugh though when I spotted a buffalo shitting into the water just meters away.

We made in back to our noisy, smelly bungalow, covered in mud, just in time for sunset. The loop around the island is entirely flat and easy enough to cycle of a bike with no gears, I imagine it’s much easier in dry season when there’s less mud around.

Tour De France; Lucy crosses the fallen bridge.

Across the river from Don Khon is Don Det, which translates as Ghost Island because of all the dead bodies that float down the Mekong from further upriver and get washed up onto the rocks that surround the island. Don Khon and Don Det are home to a curious railway built by the French in 1893. In search of greater colonial power the French wanted to establish a trade route along the Mekong to China, starting in their flagship colony, Vietnam, and traversing Cambodia and Laos. However, the formidable rapids around Si Pan Don made this impossible, so the French built a tiny, pointless railway which crossed Don Khon and Don Det. The idea was to use a special vessel that would be dismantled at Don Khon, loaded onto a train, transported to the north side of Don Det, reassembled and dropped back into the river.

The railway was abandoned at the start of the Second World War and France lost its colonies in Asia soon after. Today the only evidence of the railway is two rusting steam engines on display and a sturdy concrete railway bridge connecting the two islands. I found it very peculiar that the small island I cycled around in a matter of hours had once had a railway.

Concrete gantry on Don Det, once used to lower boats back into the river.

We Stayed At…

Don Khong – Pon’s Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a large, basic double. Has a nice second floor veranda to relax on and the owner is super friendly and helpful.

Don Khon – Bouphane Guest House: 50,000kip ($6.25/£3.75) for a river front bungalow and hammock, avoid during family parties!

Cu Chi Tunnels (Independent Trip Without Tour)

50km outside of Ho Chi Minh City lies a vast network of underground tunnels that served as a military camp for the Viet Cong soldiers during the war in the 1960s ad 70s. The tunnels cover over 250km and once contained hospitals, kitchens, bunks, store rooms, meeting rooms and munition assembly rooms; everything you need to wage an underground war against invading American soldiers.

The soldiers and villagers of Cu Chi were forced to dig the tunnels and move their lives underground to escape the carpet bombing of their village, on the outskirts of HCMC. The construction of the tunnels is amazing, an architectural wonder. The Viet Cong used hollow bamboo to ventilate the tunnels, concealing the bamboo in termite mounds at the surface to hide it from the Americans; they channeled the smoke from the kitchens to be released far away from the tunnels into an area of dense vegetation so that the smoke would not be seen. The tunnels had booby traps, secret escape hatches, hidden peep holes from which they would shoot the enemy, even trapdoors that once closed would protect them from chemical such as agent orange and napalm.  

The tunnels at Cu Chi have been preserved and the area has become a war memorial where tourists can go into some of the tunnels and see what life might have been like. The tunnels have been widened and made 'safe' for tourists but it was still a struggled to move around inside: hot, dark and claustrophobic, bats flying around your ears. There are displays of the deadly traps used by the Viet Cong, some constructed out of unexploded US bombs, and photographs to show what life was like living underground.

The tour agencies and hotels in HCMC were charging between 100,000 and 130,000 VND ($5-7) for transport to the tunnels and an English speaking guide. We decided we'd do it alone, partly to save money, partly because we like a bit of a challenge. We took the local buses and made it to the tunnels in just under two and a half hours - thank God the local buses were air conditioned! We made a friend on the bus, a young man from Hanoi who was also visiting the tunnels, he acted as our translator for the rest of the day so we didn't even have to pay for an English speaking guide (Vietnamese guides are free.)

The visit started with a very anti-American film from the war, shot in grainy black and white. Then we visited the different tunnels that are open to tourists. Going without a tour group meant we had the place to ourselves, we could spend as long as we liked looking around the tunnels and the exhibits, and it was perfect silence in the jungle where the tunnels are situated.

Ric almost getting stuck in the tiny tunnel entrance.

Tips...

• If you're thinking of going solo to the tunnels, aim to arrive there for about 11am, just as the morning tour groups are leaving, and before the afternoon groups arrive.
• Take mosquito repellent! The area is surrounded by tropical jungle full of hungry mosquitoes.
• You don't need to befriend a local on the bus, English guides are available at the entrance for tourists without a group.

How We Got There...

• From district one, take the north bound number 13 bus from 'Cach Mang Thang Tam' (one of the main streets that runs through the centre) out of the city centre to Cu Chi bus station (the terminus). Cost = 7,000 VND
• Change onto the number 79 bus at the bus station and it will drop you off outside the entrance (look out for signs in English signaling the entrance and tell the bus driver you want the tunnels). Cost = 6,000