Taman Negara, which translates from Malay as literally National Park, was an addition to our travel born directly from our time being sick in Kuala Lumpur. Our initial plan had us hugging the West Coast of Malaya¹ from Melaka through KL, Ipoh, and ending in Penang before heading to Thailand. But Megan’s illness presented time to read, write, drink alone, make new friends, and learn of the world’s oldest rainforest.² Intrigued by the promise of good hiking, lots of nature, and potentially seeing elephants, we booked transport to the middle of the peninsula. From KL we took a not at all comfortable shuttle to a transit town where we transitioned to a only slightly more comfortable raft with a motor attached. The next two hours were spent speeding down a river occupied at first by domestic cattle, then later wild water buffalo. We arrived at the dock, visitor center, restaurant, floating shack that was the entry point for the town and trekked up an absurdly steep hill to our hostel, at which point it immediately started to pour rain. Unphased, Megan declared she was hungry, so to the bemusement of our hostel mates we donned our rain jackets and headed back to the floating restaurant.

The next day we set out for the park early to beat the crowds before all of the elephants had been scared off. An hour later saw us trekking back to the park headquarters because the mosquito spray we had purchased was actually meant for clearing rooms and was not safe for the human body. We resumed our hike and spent the next six hours doing our best to silently move through the forest so as not to scare animals. None of the other park visitors shared our thoughts on silence. Also there were stairs. I mean like literally hundreds of stairs.³ After climbing our million stairs we finally reached the peak of one of the rainforest’s many mountains. The view was phenomenal. We did not see elephants.

We were confronted with a few options for our next location, but only one of them promised a beach and snorkeling with sharks. We returned to our friendly neighborhood extra-minivan and headed out for the Perhentian islands. Located off the East Coast of Malaysia, the Perhentians are made up of two main islands, called conveniently the small island and the big island. Along the way we had made friends with our van mates, and so upon arrival we all began trudging along the beach in search of beds.

We had been advised against booking a hostel in advance because half the guesthouses don’t have online booking and there would be plenty of rooms. Internet on the islands is sparse, and many places on the island only have power for half of the day. Needless to say our search for a room lasted several hours. Trudging back in forth through the sand, hobbled by a toe injury I had suffered the day before, we found disappointment at every turn. This hostel has no beds. This one only offers them to divers. This one wants an outrageous amount. This one isn’t clean. We wound up with the outrageous amount. The no advance booking method, which I had used to great effect in Central America, had failed us.

That night we met up with a friend we had made in Taman Negara for dinner on the beach, ran into our friends from the van, and after dinner watched a free fire show put on by locals and dive instructors. The combination of alcohol and the apparent hobby nature of the fire show made it all the more entertaining. This was followed by a black magic show, which we learned was just a fire show with different music. The next day we went on a full day snorkeling trip. As we prepared to board our boat I was struck with the realization that the stomach bug that had bedeviled Megan in Kuala Lumpur had come for me. The trip was already paid for however, so there was nothing to do but board and pray. We saw coral reefs and sea turtles and stingrays and honest to god sharks, and in between fighting through cramps and worrying that I was going to do more than pee in the water I had a blast. We stopped for an hour for lunch and I used a toilet three times, paying 2 ringgit each time. Afterwords we made our final snorkeling stop and then laid on the beach, waiting for our boat to take us home. It was at that moment, on the beautiful beach, with perfectly clear water, that I knew: this sunburn was going to be bad.

And bad it was. Despite applying sunscreen twice, both Megan and I ended up with near debilitating burns to our backs and butts. The next day found us taking refuge in the hostel room until sundown, then immediately downing alcohol and ibuprofen until the pain subsided. The severe sunburn combined with inevitable wicked hangover led to a one day extension on the island which was still spent almost entirely in the room. Even paradise can be hell. When we finally did leave the islands we headed from East coast to West coast for the island of Penang and its largest city of George Town. Another eight hour van ride later we checked into our colonial townhouse turned hostel, laid down on our stomachs and prepared for our final full day in Malaysia.

The island of Penang lies in the Northwestern corner of Malaysia, not far from the border with Thailand. The largest city, George Town, was founded by the British and was the heart of their initial colonial power and remained second only to Singapore until the British relinquished control. Just outside the city lies the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia, Kek Lok Si, a major pilgrimage site for all of Southeast and East Asia. The temple begins halfway up Penang Hill and rises several hundred more feet from there. Chinese in origin, the massive complex is filled with murals, statues, idols, and amazing architecture. Just wandering around was akin to being in an outdoor art museum. The colors of the temple, as with most Buddhist and Hindu temples, were vibrant and alive in a way that would almost certainly offend the denizens of my fiercely protestant hometown, which made it even better. At the top was a 120 foot tall statue of Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy, appropriate considering the amount of begging for mercy I did on the climb. Sunburns and hangovers be damned, that temple was worth the trip.

We left and hopped a bus back to our hostel, which turned out to be the wrong bus, so we hopped another bus and made friends with a local who was just returning from work in Singapore. He asked us where we were from, and when we said the US he made sure we weren’t Trump supporters before continuing to talk to us. He gave us a map of the city and helped us make the correct bus stop, and then exited our lives. The joy and curse of traveling in one bus ride. We ended the night with mediocre Mexican food and packed our bags. The next day we would be heading to Thailand, the country for which this whole trip spawned.