The good days are almost over and I wouldn’t mind if a sudden ice age closed FRA for the next two or three years, but I fear that’s only wishful thinking. Before I set sail here’s my last update:

• well, we finally got our divers’ licenses, and the same day we got it we went straight into the next-best tours office in order to use it. However, no one seems to care if you really have one, you only have to sign a paper stating you could dive. The bad thing is they’re as lenient with the equipment as they’re with the certificates. It took me ten minutes or so to find out that my depth meter didn’t work. I was, however, in good company: my buddy’s meter was broken as well, so we both just followed the dive master and hoped that at least his gauge worked
• I’m tempted to say that a SPG (the thing that tells you how much air you have still left in your tank) can be quite a decent relaxation trainer. When you see how much air goes out when you take a couple of deep breaths you try to stay as calm as possible, trying not to be the ‘bad guy’ that ruins the trip by running out of air first.
• what we have seen (excerpt of my diving log): Barracudas, Clownfishes, Sergeant Majors, Bat Fishes, Flounders, Parrotfishes, Butterflyfishes, Sea Cucumber, Fusilier Fishes, Orangutan-Crabs, Giant clams, Starfishes, Lion Fishes, an Eagle ray (unfortunately I’ve only grasped a shadow, the others had seen it more clearly) and dozens of plants I can’t even describe, some of them were several meters in size
• we’ve been told that if we were lucky there could be sharks around, but we haven’t seen any (I suppose when they learned that we got our licenses they moved into safer territories), same for turtles
• by the way, we have also been told that like 90% of all diving accidents happen at surface level. I second that. My head still hurts from the metal bar I banged against when leaving the boat at the jetty.
• speaking of head banging: my favorite (local) song in the radio played over here (Meet Uncle Hussain feat. Black – Drama King), makes me fantasizing racing over jungly serpentines to the beat of the music with the sun in our backs (not that we would have ever done that, and especially not several times …)

In addition to diving and songs there have also been a couple of other things and places I haven’t blogged about, most notably:

• the Tip of Borneo. Took us a four hours ride to get there and we started rather late. Had to fight the clock in order to reach it before the sunset; but it was worth it. There you can not only enjoy an adorable end of day, but you will also have a beautiful view at the stars and the milky way afterwards while lying on the warm stones, slowly dreaming away to the sounds of the waves as they break at the cliff below.

So much more to say, so little time. Boreno, I’ll miss you, but I will come back.

I am very sorry, but I have bad news for you.

It is very likely that I won’t be able to take or post any more images about our current activities.

Our original plan was to either climb Mt. Kinabalu, visit the Mulu caves or do a real deep-jungle-track. Unfortunately all of these items were either already fully booked for the next weeks or overly overpriced.

This meant we had to change our plans for the more boring alternatives available. Our next best option was wild-water rafting. Didn’t work (no rain for the last several weeks). Horse riding at the beach. No chance (there’s a weight limit of 90kg). We even considered doing a city tour, but then thought: “Hey, if we tell them we were doing a city tour they’ll ask ‘how deep can one sink’”?

On the other hand we just thought: Meh! We don’t care how deep we sink, so we signed up for the probably most boring and toneless activity one could think of for his holidays: going to school.

Diving school. Doing a diver’s license at one of the least attractive diving sites known to mankind: the coral reefs of Borneo.

I hope you can understand our disappointment about that change of plans.

This change, by the way, came rather suddenly as we entered a diving school just for fun to see if they had any snorkeling / day trips available in short term.

“Well”, they said, “nothing outdoor for today, but if you like we could start a theory class right now, so that you can join tomorrow’s diving lessons”. It took us a hard five seconds to decide and by 2p.m we sat in a classroom studying diving theory the hardcore way (almost felt like learning for university exams on the last day). By 0:30am we finished our preparation and set the alarm to 6:30am.

I have to admit, I can’t remember the last time I ever slept this bad. This was probably due to the way the education system works:

First of all, for one or two hours, they scare the crap out of you by telling you all possible dangers, threats, causes of injury and death that can occur (they do however, only ‘tell’ it, while at the same time you see tranquilizing movies of beautiful maritime wildlife). Afterwards you have to sign a sheet stating you are aware of all the dangers and want to do it anyway, and if you should die or worse, it’s your and only your fault alone. The next couple of hours were then theory about the gear, basic do’s and don’ts and so on.

From this perspective you might understand that I spent half of the night asking myself what I’d do if I run out of air, if I should lose my mask, regulator (the thing you put in your mouth (which is the thing you put in your mouth in order to breathe, for the French readers)) or anything else.

At the peak of the night I was so mad that I really needed to stand up twice in order to get rid of the thoughts of drowning or panicking at several meters depth (just think of how much 18 meters really are) with lots of lots of lots of water above me and not a single chance to take just one simple breath of fresh air anytime I wanted to.

Let me tell you at this point that one of the first things they actually do in this training is to force you to completely put off the mask under water, put it on again after 60 seconds and clear it under water, they force you to put out your regulator, ‘throw’ it behind your back, hold your breath for several seconds until your are finally allowed trying to find it. But it gets even better. Kneeling at five meters depth your air supply will be switched off hard (closing the vent) and you have to keep on breathing until nothing more comes out of it (“so you know how it feels when you have problem”) and you eventually have to ask your buddy to ’share air’. Swimming circles without mask, open eyes and uncovered nose at depth? Done. Breathing out of a ‘broken’ regulator? Done as well.

However, I haven’t talked about how the practical part of the training actually begins.

With a German spirit in mind you might think you start your training in a basin where you’ll be accustomed to all the gear step by step until you slowly head to deeper and deeper depths until you’ll eventually move to the open sea.

This is not the Malaysian way to do it.

The Malaysian way works like this: You get your gear, take a boat and halt about 100 meters from the coastline of the next island. If you look out of the boat you can see no ground (and I suspect the water depth was way more than 12 meters there). Then the engine stops and without hesitation our guides get their stuff out and tell us we should get in the gear, they’d “help us as necessary”.

I have to admit that at this point we really thought there must have been some sort of misunderstanding about the experience-level of our group. ‘Whatever’, we continued, ‘they will just show us how it works and then we’ll drive the last meters towards the shore or some other place, or they just drop the four other more experienced guys’ (at this point you might already guess how the story proceeds). What happens next is that we have to attach like 6 kilos of weights to our hips, put on about 10 kilos of additional equipment when suddenly our instructor says “Okay, I show you how to make entry into water from boat, afterwards, follow me. You [finger pointing at me] go first. We start training in the water.”.

My first thought was: “This is a joke!” That thought was immediately interrupted from the guide’s splash as he entered the water. Then the second instructor approached me, said “Ok, you go. Hold your mask like this – Ok, all fine – 3, 2, 1″ and off the boat I went.

The moment you are being rolled off a millions things try to cross your mind the same time, you feel the water submerging you, lose orientation for a second, tumble and turn, bubbles emerge and rise all around you, you take your first real, ‘involuntary’ breath out of the regulator and hear its hissing sound like in some sort of unreal and bizarre dream of a late night underwater documentary. And then, all out of a sudden, as the blue sky appears over your head again while you float gently besides the boat, it is the first time you realize: ‘Omg, it really does work’. Afterwards, of course, we swam to the shoreline where we started our real training.

So, you might wonder, did I enjoy it?

Give me a second to wipe some tears out of my eyes …

What I experienced today was probably one of the most extraordinary … one of … was … most remarkable … was …

… you simply cannot imagine what it feels like floating several meters below the surface, in blue, warm water, over coral reefs, hundreds of fish around you (we’ve even found little Nemos hiding in anemones and a swarm of curious barracudas passing by), sunken wreckage at the ground; and when you look upwards you see sparkling sunlight glittering in thousands of streaks shining above your head.

If you haven’t been diving there simply are no words to appropriately describe those impressions.

When you reach out your hand dozens of fish might curiously gather around it, the way you feel when you see how you slightly float up and down with every breath, and this marvelous moment when you eventually catch yourself at 12 meters depth recognizing that all your fears have simply dissolved into the endless sea leaving you with only an insatiable hunger for just one thing:

More.

Update: Images added.

So many things happened the last days and I’m lacking the words to describe the beauty of most of them. I couldn’t decide yet if that’s good or bad, but let me assure you that even when taking photography into account one Borneo is still worth more than a thousand pictures. There are, however, also a number of unpleasant things which I noticed the last days and I feel I should write about them as well.

Here we go:

• Being white and being in Borneo can be described best as having some sort of celebrity status, especially if you stay there for many months (like my host) and if you move away from the touristic sight-seeing points. People talk about you, turn around, smile and wave towards your direction. The backside of this medal is, however, that you are exposed to a paparazzi-like effect and every of your moves it at least curiously watched. While being recognized as a foreigner makes conversation- or flirting attempts exceptionally easy it also has its downside: at many places you are being charged a multiple of the ordinary price. For example, even if you negotiate the fares before the trip, cab drivers charge double or triple of what would be the expected fare, entry fees to parks are increased up to five times.
• Sex. (I knew that would draw your attention). There are a bunch of prejudices about (male) visitors of asian countries; a melted down mixture of some of which I’ve heard around Germany read like this: “Ugly guy from abroad moves in for a cheap fuck, rents the girl for a lifetime, takes her home; she’s in for the money, he’s in for the body and in the end they die unhappily ever after”. While in theory this could be the antipode of a perfect love story I get the subtle notion that especially the people telling them are missing one or two small, yet integral details of the big picture. While I’m not saying that this doesn’t happen (and I’m sure there are a number of guys and gals with a sufficient lack of empathy to go for it), I am pretty sure that a not-so-insignificant number of couples will face a challenging time perforating the cultural borders separating them. Well, I don’t want to comment on the topic any further — you might, however, want to take it as a crystallization point for your own thoughts.
• I’ve already mentioned it in the last post, but we encounter it over and over again: trash. As with everything you will be reading here about Borneo you should take into account that we only see a very, very tiny fraction of the land. Maybe we have just the misfortune to drive ‘the wrong ways’. However, when driving these roads over here you’ll regularly see long streaks of garbage littering between the road and the jungle. Plastic bottles, shreds of paper, ripped cloths and many more. I have no idea where they come from, nor why no one takes them away. Maybe we just have to wait for the next rain season so the water can wash them away into the underwoods, right into the loving hands of mother nature who will take care of their removal the next hundred years.
• Writing about the destruction of native treasures brings me right to my next topic, the cancerous growth of christian missions you can see in some parts of the island. It’s no secret that christian churches are usually right at the frontier when it’s about imposing their view on infidels, either downright from the pulpit, or more subtle through development aid and schools; and I’ve stopped counting and noting names of all the ones we’ve seen on our trips through Borneo: ‘True Jesus Church’, ‘St. Victor’s Church’, ‘St. Jeromes Church’, ‘St. Jeffry’s Church’, … While one could argue there’s no point to complain about replacing one superstition with another, you could argue as well that 3000 acres of palm-oil plantations are of the same value as an equally sized area of primary rainforest. It’s a funny thing that the catholic church has been opposing Dawrin’s ideas for such a long time on the one hand, but is exercising it’s own Darwinian ’struggle for existence’ par excellence on the other.

I hope that after reading all this you don’t get a wrong impression of the island. Borneo really is a mind-blowing place and there are an almost unlimited number of things that will leave you speech- and breathless. I just hope they don’t vanish.

Update: Images have been added.

I don’t even try to write a sensible introduction.

• went to the island Mamutik and did some snorkeling. The trip could have been funnier, the jellyfish however had other plans
• never thought supposedly cute little fish can be so impertinent (however, we ate some out of revenge afterwards, that will teach them a lesson) — no, seriously, snorkeling was quite nice, but being nibbled by curious fish every five minutes was new to me
• something that’s really sad about this place here is there is so much garbage floating in the sea, on our trip to the island you could see empty bottles and plastic parts every few hundred meters; what a wasted paradise
• in case you get easily frightened by lizards (I mean the large ones, not the cute little things less than half a meter length) crossing your way, then Mamutik might actually be quite a good place not to start you trip
• one hour foot massage: 9,50€ (plus additional 10 minutes of back-kneading for free). Have been told I had purred all the time, can’t remember, memory blurred, will repeat experiment tomorrow
• science, once more: I hereby postulate that evolution will eventually make city-dwlling snakes become either much smaller (or way faster), especially near broad roads
• if you like the cart-feeling, just rent a Perodua Kelisa and drive through the streets of KK, feels the same
• went into a gas station to buy some waters, out of which emerged a discussion with the locals about football and Ballack
• today we agreed to redefine our notion of ‘jungle’: no matter what the vegetation looks like; if we still got cell phone reception we won’t call it jungle
• the sunset here is so unbelievably fast, it only takes a (very) few minutes for the sun to descend below the horizon, and the afterglow is just as staggering
• event of the evening: birthday party featuring an infinite amount of juicy milkshakes, six girls, two guys, one cake

Today felt like two days, and as I’m short of time again (and as it’s 23:30 late at night), here’s a brief again:

• flight to Kota Kinabalu was better than any roller coaster I’ve ever tried; had they only played “Highway to the Danger Zone” over intercom, it would have been the ride of my life
• Malaysia is the first country I visited that kindly remembers people in their customs declaration that you can be executed if you bring in the wrong things. Made me feel much safer.
• the shower here has only a single faucet (for cold water), however, the temperature is always right
• by the way, we live in an apartment with five girls; if I shouldn’t come back in two weeks, don’t search for me
• some buildings over here have a really beautiful architecture (especially at the university), however, some of them could need a cleanup for the inside
• it’s sometimes hard to tell what’s a car’s alarm system and what’s a bird
• did I already mention that it’s hot and humid?
• sun in Borneo just laughs at LSF 30. Will switch to a thin layer of concrete tomorrow.
• some of the butterflies I’ve seen are palm-sized
• think you were a rockstar when visiting Japan? Visit Boreno. Over here people even greet you or try to talk to you. I guess I nodded to more than 50 people today; some even say ‘hello’ when you pass by.
• lunch at expensive restaurant: ~10€
• took a cab today to ride from one end of KK to our home, the ride across the city took ~15 minutes; it then took the driver additional ~15 minutes to find the proper house (he stopped three or four times to ask locals until he finally convinced a biker to lead us the way). Total cost of the trip: 5€.
• dinner at local restaurant: 2,50€ (including two drinks with fresh orange juice)
• bottle of sun blocker LSF 50: 11€ (WTF?!)
• bringing only four bottles of Autan Plus was very optimistic; mosquitos seem to like the challenge
• internet uplink appears to work with bongos, images are still being drummed
• my cell phone stopped working; no matter which number I dial, I always receive something like “person not connected”; learned it the hard way today.

(Sorry, image uploads are messed up, some appear twice, other are damaged, will investigate it as soon as I have nothing better to do …)

If this post reads weird thats maybe due to the fact that I’ve been awake for 24 hours now, and still have eight more to go. As my laptop runs out of battery, here’s a quickie:

- departure from FRA was quick and painless, no queues, no problems
- perceived progress of flight was like Frankfurt, Stockholm, Moscow, Ural, Omsk, Omsk, Omsk, Omsk, Omsk, Beijing, Seoul
- stewardesses were nice
- right now I’m in South Korea (at the airport, too tired to see any city)
- never ever put any fragile items into your luggage … not even monkeys in the jungle would handle coconuts that carelessly
- speaking of monkeys: I’d assume there’s a conspiracy going on between airport security and bottled-water-vendors

And in goes the first malaria-suppressant … notable side effects (according to the package insert) are:

• very frequently: headaches, bellyache, vomiting, diarrhea
• frequently: dizziness, insomnia, weird dreams (no joke, its really printed in the insert), depression, lack of appetite, fever, skin rashs, cough
• sometimes: sensation of fear, tachycardia (fast beating heart), loss of hair
• misc: hepatitis, panic and crying attacks (no joke either, one way or another *g*), hallucinations, nightmares and some more …

… spending a fortune for a flight, equipment, cloths, medical checkup, medicine – not to mention the costs on the spot; just to fly to a place where the sun burns your brain, the rain wets you to the bone, leeches and mosquitos suck your blood, snakes bite you in the foot and three days of diarrhea might await you in every carelessly chosen meal. Right now I wouldn’t mind if a giant snow storm closed down FRA for the next two weeks.

However, let’s have a look at my checklist, maybe there’s some hope in it:

• Working ’till the last day’s night to increase the likelihood of missing something? Check.
• Leaving students with big questionmarks in their faces? Check.
• Not having bought a sleeping pillow for the flight? Check.
• Having no time to get some domestic money beforehand? Check.
• Skipped buying additional cloths and anti-leech-socks? Check.
• Not informed grandparents that there will be no birthday-party this year? Check.

Yep … looks like we’re well prepared and good to go.