Going With The Flow

Life, in Langkawi, is very easy. We don’t need to plan much, we just go with the flow.  We might make a vague plan, but it’s always subject to the appearance of a jubilant Gemmy who has had an idea of something we could all do together, or who has bumped into a friend who has opened a restaurant or who just fancies cooking something, or going somewhere, or watching the sunset. Whatever he suggests, we know it will be fun, and we shelve other plans and just go for it.

For a while I reflect on whether or not we might actually have learned something. ‘Going with the flow’ is an expression often bandied around by travellers, and used to describe a new feature of their character that they miraculously acquired whilst travelling. You know, by now, my scepticism about such glibitudes as ‘finding oneself’ and ‘going with the flow’ is the kind of phrase I might expect from Brad. In fact, I have rather come to realise that the deeper lessons, the greater skills I hope we might bring back home with us are to do with being able to stand firm against ‘the flow’ without apologising for it.

Even so, this sort of going with the flow, the kind that simply means that you don’t try to give yourself the illusion of being in control of your life by planning out your work, your days, your life plans with painstaking attention to detail, but simply live life in a way that leaves you poised to embrace any new opportunity or to ride any storm.

In this sense, and with the help of Gemmy, whose personality is so bright and energetic – and contagious with it – (and who is in fact older then us, in case anyone was assuming him to be a naïve twenty year old. He is youthful below his years - and wise beyond them.) – we have become people who ‘go with the flow’.

Today though, we find ourselves sipping coffee and watching Gemmy retreat into his spa to provide the treatments his clients have booked for today. We  decide that today we will, finally, goo to the SkyCab. The SkkyCab is a high cable car which takes you up the mojntain for breath taking views. IIt’s pricey, for Mallaysia, and we have heard penty of reports of it being over commercialised, like, as several different reviewers have phrased it, ‘a theme park’.

This doesn’t really phase us. M’s Dad has  looked up the island and become quite excited about the Sky Cab on our behalf, so we want to experience it, both because his advice  is usually good, and because it will be nice to ride it, think of him, tell him about it when we get back and generally sort of do it in honour of him. Also we have been to plenty of ‘overcommercialised’ places and come to the conclusion that, once again, it all depends on how you look at things. If you spend your time there walking about and spitting bile about the fact that there are some souvenir shops there, you will probably not enjoy yourself. If you work on the assumption that such an attraction probably does contain some souvenir shops, they don’t worry you. You don’t have to go in them, after all.

We walk to the SkyCab, which takes a while, as it is about 8 kilometres away and, in case I didn’t mention, it is HOT. It’s a nice walk though, with views out over the bay and by the time we get there we feel perfectly within our rights to reward ourselves with an ice cream. There are indeed a lot of tourist shops around here, but that is how we were able to have an in ice cream, so it isn’t a problem. I buy a ‘card’ for M’s  birthday in one of them.

When we actually walk to the SkyCab part itself we see what people meant about it being a theme park. To our great amusement, we are greeted by Mickey Mouse, and a command, rather than an entreaty, to pose with him (or her, I’ve never been quite sure).   We do so, mostly because you can’t get in without doing so, and because we know that when we are (inevitably) presented with the picture  on a key ring, holographic  photo, fridge magnet, etc. at the other end, we will politely refuse. Us standing rather awkwardly next to Mickey Mouse doesn’t quite personify our experience in Langkawi.

The cab ride itself, however, needs no such clownery to make it worthwhile. The view are stunning and it really is one of the highest cable cars I have ever ridden. We can stop at two points on the way up and view the amazing panorama of green mountains jungle, town and bay, with islands rising out of the sea in the background. The air is clean and pure and it’s beautiful. From here we can see the waterfall we plan to walk on to, known as  the Seven Wells waterfall with, of course, an accompanying legend (tomorrow I will tell you the legends – I promise). The waterfall is huge, we can see the top of it only from here, and when we walk to it we will only be able to get as far as the first ‘well’. It is called ‘seven wells’ because the water falls from a great height, and then flows between seven smaller pools created  by the way the rock has formed. There is another quite arge drop between the upper and lower falls which has killed many an unwary tourist, ignoring the signs and the fence which tells you not to venture closer, and edging nearer the drop in order to get a better photo. Particularly tragically, when we read about this, the article commented that the majority of the victims were honeymooning couples. I forbid M to go anywhere near the drop. He laughs,

“I’m not stupid,” he tells me, “I like my life.”

 The other memorable little scene  in the SkyCab was yet another example of the harmonious and tolerant attitudes of the various different major faith groups in Malaysia. On the way up we are herded into the cab to ensure it fills its full 6 person capacity. (This is not so well policed on the way down and so we can have a cab to ourselves). As we are hurried in, we follow a couple, the woman in full Niqab and Burka, and the man in white, wearing the traditional head gear. I sit down hastily, not really having enough time to consider things, next to the man. I am instantly conscious that 1) I am wearing shorts with bare legs and 2) I am wearing a top without sleeves.  This is not a religious site and so I have not been careful about how modestly I dress. I am also conscious that, sitting as I am, three to a cramped  seat, it is hard for me not to touch the man, and for him not to touch me. I try to cover my legs with my bag and to hold myself carefully away from him, understanding that the Muslim faith would not normally allow contact like this, especially with a western women in such a state of relative undress. No sooner has this thought entered my mind, and the idea of swapping with M, sitting opposite me, has presented itself, than the woman has had a very quiet word with the man and the two have switched places. There is no fuss, there are no admonishments, no dirty looks, indeed  I can see  from the crinkle  in her eyes that the woman smiles at me (anyone who says that the Niqab makes it difficult to read facial expressions are wrong – the eyes tell you everything – you barely need all the rest.). I feel that the couple have conducted themselves with enormous dignity and gentleness and without breaching the laws of their faith. I want to apologise and/or to thank them for their dignity but I think it would make a carefully non awkward situation suddenly awkward so I decide against it. Please take note though, the west has such a skewed view of Islam, and assumes all Muslims to be bigoted, and separatist to the point of violence. I have seen nothing other than absolute gentleness and humility. It may seem obvious, but a lot of people cannot separate the faith from the extremists. And how many Christians would identify with their own extreme versions, the crusaders, who killed millions who were not of the same faith, or the more recent Baptist church in America, which pickets the funerals and hounds  the mourners of anyone they feel died ‘in sin’. (which is more or less everyone, surely?)

After the Sky Cab we pause for a while and we genuinely do find here, a shop which sells beautiful crafts, and our usual requirement for a ‘gift with a story’ from each place, along with our search for something which will remind us of Langkawi, are both satisfied, with the help of the postal service, and M’s parents’ generosity at Christmas.

We walk to the waterfall. It is beautiful but the best thing about it, again is its naturalness. The natural ‘jacuzzi’ formed by the first small pool which the water falls from a great height into,, and which is shallow enough to sit in, is exhilarating and beautiful, and the natural ‘rock slides’ which can deliver you, squealing, from one pool into another, are better than any theme park could offer.

“See how brave I was?” I say to M, after we have spent quite some time here, sliding around happily, “I could do canyoning in New Zealand easily.”

M smiles at me. The fact is that the rock slides are maybe only as much as a metre high. My idea of going canyoning in order to prove that I can conquer my fear of heights, (taken, rather naughtily, from the German girl we liked  so much when we  met her in Dalat), is still valid, but a metre high rock slide, of the kind an otter might slide down, is hardly much of a practice.

“Yes,” he says anyway, “very brave indeed.”

I love M. I love him for lots of reasons, but today most of all for his willingness to engage in my happy acts of self deception.

That’s something you can’t fake in  theme park either.