The benefits of the palang

Malaysia | Anno 2016

 

Sunday, March 27 | Kota Kinabalu

Monday, March 28 | Kota Kinabalu

Thursday, April 7 | Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park

 

 

Sunday, March 27 | Kota Kinabalu

The busy airspace above Hong Kong is giving us some trouble, but just after half past eight, the DragonAir Airbus A320 finally ascends above its home base. Now we're heading due south, over the South China Sea, neatly navigating between Vietnam and the Philippines. Kota Kinabalu International Airport is our destination, all the way up north in Borneo.

Kota Kinabalu – KK for friends – is a name we had never heard of until recently. It turns out to be quite a large city, with as many as four hundred thousand inhabitants squeezed between the sea and densely forested hills. The city was called Jesselton back when it was still a British colony, thanks to Sir Charles Jessel. Nowadays, it's the capital of Sabah, the Malaysian province – slightly larger than Ireland – forming the northern tip of Borneo and showing a profile on the map resembling a dog's head.

Although Borneo lies on the equator, you don't have to fear truly tropical temperatures there

On our way to the hotel, we're getting our first insights about this immense island. Despite lying on the equator, Borneo doesn't necessarily subject you to truly tropical temperatures. The surrounding oceans take care of that. Along the coast, daytime temperatures rarely stray beyond the range of 25 to 30 °C (77 to 86 °F). However, when it comes to humidity, Borneo is relentless. On average, it receives 2,500 mm of rain per year. The southwest monsoon dominates from April to October, followed by the northeast monsoon from October to February.

There's no volcanic activity here. However, that doesn't stop Gunung Kinabalu, at 4,095 m the tallest mountain in Borneo, from gaining five millimetres in height every year.

With an area of 740,000 km², Borneo is the third-largest island in the world – after Greenland and Papua New Guinea. In Europe, you'd have to combine countries like Spain and the United Kingdom to match a comparable area.

Yet, this immense island isn't even a single country. Three countries have a foothold here. Firstly, there's Indonesian Kalimantan, occupying almost three-quarters of the island. Then there's Brunei, a tiny but extremely wealthy sultanate forming two enclaves on the northwest coast.

And finally, there's East Malaysia. Together with West Malaysia, all the way across the South China Sea, it forms the constitutional monarchy of Malaysia. It's quite an uncomfortable split. Imagine if Belgium and Croatia were to form one country, with nothing but water between them. Here, in East Malaysian Kota Kinabalu, we're closer to Manila, the capital of the Philippines, than to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia.

We're closer to Manila, the capital of the Philippines, than to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia

Not entirely unjustifiably, East Malaysia constantly feels short-changed by distant Kuala Lumpur. Natural resources abound, but the revenues consistently flow to the mainland. Investments in East Malaysia lag behind.

When Malaya gained independence from the British in 1957, East Malaysia wasn't even part of it. It wasn't until 1963 that Malaysia came into being. West Malaysia, East Malaysia, and Singapore formed one federation. That didn't last long because Singapore had little regard for the underdeveloped hinterland. In 1965, the city-state became independent. It would prove to be beneficial for them.

Today, Malaysia has just over 30 million inhabitants. While that's triple the population of Belgium, in Southeast Asia, Malaysia is the little brother, alongside countries like Vietnam, the Philippines, and Indonesia. With an area of 330,290 km², it's slightly smaller than Germany.

Malaysia surprisingly has a king. Every five years, one of the sultans from the nine states on the mainland is appointed king in rotation. He doesn't wield political power, but as a guardian of Malaysian traditions and as a symbolic head of Islam, he commands great respect.

True to their colonial history, Malaysians usually drive on the left side of the road and generally speak English. With 27 ethnic groups and nearly 100 dialects, the need for a standard language is evident. Naturally, it can't be the language of the colonizer. By law, Bahasa Malaysia has been designated as the official language. It's quite a straightforward language. You don't have to worry about inflections or conjugations because there aren't any. If you need a plural, you just use the word twice in a row – buku-buku is the plural of book. Moreover, the language differs little from Bahasa Indonesia.

Not too long ago, around two hundred armed militants invaded Sabah to serve as a reminder

We've also learned to be a bit cautious with our body language. Pointing with the index finger can be seen as offensive here. Instead, you point with the thumb on a clenched fist. Calling someone is not done with the back of the hand, but by moving the fingers of the raised hand up and down together. A polite greeting is given by placing the right hand flat on the left chest. If you see someone making the familiar gesture with bent fingers and extended thumb and little finger, that person isn't talking about a phone call but rather a drink. It's likely to be non-alcoholic most of the time because about 60% of the population is Muslim.

Meanwhile, we've reached Le Méridien – specifically, its backside. The hotel is quite close to the waterfront, and we can't miss the pungent smell of fish. It's no coincidence; the fish market is located at the front of the hotel.

A bit later, we hit the road again to get to know the capital of Sabah a bit better.

Technically, Sabah belongs to the Philippines, not Malaysia. At least, that's the opinion of the Sultan of Sulu, an archipelago that is part of the Philippines. Not too long ago, in February 2013, around two hundred armed militants invaded Sabah to serve as a reminder of this claim. And that's not the only territorial conflict in the region. There are also the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea, which not only Malaysia, Brunei, and the Philippines claim, but also Vietnam, Taiwan, and above all, China. The Chinese have even come to consider the South China Sea as their mare nostrum.

The name Kota refers to a historic fort, but you won't find one in Kota Kinabalu. During the Second World War, the city was completely bombed flat. Only a clock tower from 1905 miraculously survived the inferno. The devastation was so great that the city was called Api-api for a while – api means fire. Meanwhile, the city has risen around a more or less rectangular street plan.

We drive north along the coast of the South China Sea. A brisk wind whips up white crests in the seawater. Just off the coast, the silhouette of Pulau Gaya rises, the largest island in the Abdul Rahman archipelago, with quite a few stilt houses on its shores. These settlements are somewhat euphemistically referred to as water villages.

These settlements are somewhat euphemistically referred to as water villages

The majority of KK's residents are ethnic Chinese. Like elsewhere, they have a strong grip on trade but suffer greatly when social discontent leads to unrest. In politics and administration, it's the Malays who call the shots. Corruption runs rampant. Indians are often found in the medical sector, but they also sometimes end up as street sweepers. At the bottom of the social ladder are the Filipinos – illegal, unemployed, poor, and deemed unnecessary. They populate, among other places, the stilt villages clinging to the hillsides in the bays of Gaya, protected from the storms that ravage the South China Sea.

 

Kota Kinabalu – Tun Mustapha Tower

City Mosque

In the meantime, we find ourselves amidst a handful of tower buildings. Particularly impressive is the Tun Mustapha Tower, a beautiful cylindrical glass structure, standing at 122 meters tall. A bit more classic is the administrative centre of the Sabah province, destined to become the tallest building in Borneo – if this construction will ever be completed.

Peeking out from behind several rows of palm trees is the City Mosque, overlooking the South China Sea. This is the largest mosque in the city. The white, modest building with a blue dome and four minarets can accommodate 12,000 worshippers.

For a bird's-eye view of Kota Kinabalu, we need to head to Signal Hill. There, we can look down on the long, parallel jalans or streets that form the backbone of the city. Down below, we can spot the famous Atkinson Clock Tower, a wooden structure standing almost 16 meters tall.

The fact that some fishermen in these parts are also part-time pirates cannot be ruled out

Kota Kinabalu – Atkinson Clock Tower

South China Sea

Having a stash of ringgits in our pockets would be handy. So we head down to Wisma Merdeka, a small shopping centre, in search of currency exchange booths that are active even on Sundays. Many buildings here seem to be named Wisma. That's not surprising – wisma simply means building. We get 4.50 ringgit for one euro. To simplify things, they also refer to the ringgit as dollar here, even though it's officially called MYR.

The kretek, which is wildly popular in Indonesia, turns out to be enjoyed in Malaysia as well – not only for its taste but also because of favourable taxation. The tobacco is mixed with cloves, and the burning of cloves produces the soft crackling sound that gives the cigarette its name.

 

Night Market at the Waterfront – Fish vendors…

…and meat vendors

In the distance, the faded blue silhouettes of the islands blur against the pale grey horizon. Speedy boats cut through the restless silver water. Most fishing boats are already at the pier. Their catch is in, and the market is overflowing. The fact that some fishermen in these parts are also part-time pirates cannot be ruled out. The Malacca Strait, in particular, is notorious for that. Every day, somewhere, a boat gets hijacked.

 

 

The Night Market at the Waterfront is gearing up for the evening rush. Fish restaurants showcase their best goods, displaying them in the most attractive manner for their customers. What ends up on the ice tables here, in terms of fish, shellfish, and molluscs, defies our imagination. The South China Sea seems to be an almost inexhaustible source of proteins in all shapes, sizes, dimensions, and colours. Several food stalls try to entice their customers with halal-prepared satay skewers and chicken drumsticks. Colossal quantities of dried shark fins and swallow nests are stacked in plastic bags.

 

Waterfront

A modest vegetable and fruit market marks the transition to the fish market. Exotic products abound – bananas, melons, mangoes, papayas, pineapples, soursops, lemongrass... just to name a few. Less exotic are the corn cobs that the Kandazan-Dusun people are trying to sell. They live higher up in the mountains, where the climate is more temperate.

 

Halal chicken

Dried shark fins and swallow nests

Deeper and deeper sinks the sun, like a yellow-white disk, disappearing behind the coppery horizon. Its rays now penetrate under the primitive roofs of the stalls, casting a warm glow over the countless amounts of fish displayed here. The hustle and bustle steadily increase. In the background, fishing boats lie peacefully at anchor.

 

 

Ultimately, much of that delicious seafood also ends up on our plates. Because on Sunday evenings, Le Méridien offers seafood steamboat on the menu, the Malaysian version of the Chinese hot pot. In a pot with two separate compartments, the broths are steaming on the table – a simple chicken broth and tom yam, a spicy, sour fish broth. Surrounding them are the raw ingredients – shrimp, fish balls, vegetables, etc. So, it's self-preparation according to skill and taste.

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Monday, March 28 | Kota Kinabalu

The ethnography of the peoples of Borneo, that's what they know all about at the Sabah Museum. And we know next to nothing. So, it's an ideal place for us to brush up on that a bit. On the way to the museum, Kampung Air passes by the window, a collection of weathered stilt houses, right in the city centre. Extremely poor Filipinos live there. At low tide, the dirty mud slush under the meagre houses is exposed, as if the poignant poverty needed an extra accent.

It's a stark contrast with the Masjid Negeri Sabah, the State Mosque a little further on. It's hailed as a unique synthesis of traditional Islamic architecture and contemporary Malaysian design. The modernist building looks like a fortress, with a dome adorned with gold inlay and a pencil minaret surrounded by a fortification wall with sixteen turrets, each crowned with a golden dome. Unique indeed. Five thousand worshippers can be accommodated there.

It's half past nine when we disembark at the Muzium Sabah for our academic introduction to the Dayaks. That's a collective term for the many tribes that originally inhabited Borneo – the Iban, the Bidayuh, the Kandazan-Dusun, the Murut, the Penan, and many others.

But this museum is more than just a museum. On the hilly terrain, they've erected several traditional longhouses among the trees.

 

Muzium Sabah – Longhouse of Murut

Such longhouses are the norm in the inland of Borneo. Many families live together, which promotes safety. This is necessary not only because animals attack them, but also because of humans. Because quite a few tribes were enthusiastic practitioners of headhunting. The Iban in particular were quite fanatical about this.

When it comes to headhunting, it's not about settling a score with your victim. Your victim doesn't even have to be your enemy – although that helps. Killing the victim is simply an inevitable step towards the noble end goal of headhunting, namely collecting skulls. A bit like collecting stamps.

Usually, the object to be collected is killed silently and from a distance with a blowpipe. Then the body is beheaded, the skull is stripped, and the remainder is dried. The result is hung in a prominent place in your longhouse – next to your previous trophies. Because that's essentially the point – to impress visitors, to make it clear that you're not to be messed with.

Reportedly, you can still find skulls in longhouses in the rainforest, although this hobby has been prohibited since 1812. However, the skulls always commanded respect from the residents and visitors of the longhouse. Sometimes they were even objects of worship and were offered food sacrifices.

In the 19th century, the practice seemed to die out until the Japanese overstepped their bounds during World War II in Borneo. The Dayaks couldn't let that slide. Brits and Australians eagerly lent a hand and trained an army of about a thousand vengeful Dayaks. Reportedly, 1,500 Japanese lost their heads there.

The last documented cases of headhunting occurred in the late 1990s in Kalimantan, the Indonesian part of Borneo. The Iban there were not happy about the Madurese flooding their traditional lands as part of the Indonesian transmigration policy. Ethnic tensions ensued, ancient customs resurfaced.

In the museum, they have hung up some authentic skulls in a skull house. Whether they were Japanese, we cannot immediately determine. But they certainly have our respect.

Cicadas try to attract females with a sound that even profoundly deaf females can hardly miss

Peacefully, the cicadas chirp in the trees around us. We owe this concert to males trying to attract females with a sound that even the most profoundly deaf females can hardly miss. Scientific measurements show it can reach up to 106 decibels. They produce this sound not by rubbing their wings together as crickets do, but by rapidly vibrating membranes on their abdomen.

Beheading isn't the only special hobby of the Dayaks, as we learn. Their tattoos are also noteworthy. Impressive artworks were pricked into the skin using bamboo points dipped in soot. If a Dayak has a tattoo on his back, it is for decoration. If he has one on his neck, it signifies fearlessness. Tattoos on his fingers indicate that he doesn't shy away from a bit of headhunting.

If a man has a fishhook tattooed on his calf, you can assume that a few inches higher up in his pants, right through the glans, you'll find a palang. Traditionally, this was a bamboo stick or a piece of bone, but nowadays, steel or titanium palangs are the standard. Available on the internet, payable by credit card.

Nowadays, steel or titanium palangs are the standard. Available on the internet, payable by credit card

The benefits of the palang are not difficult to guess. When a man's brush of love is upright, the whole thing resembles a cross. And that just happens to be the natural shape of the Sumatran rhinoceros's penis. That animal is a real powerhouse when it comes to sex. Five hours of continuous mating is no problem for a rhinoceros. That is indeed a promising prospect for a Dayak with a palang.

The palang was usually applied to boys aged 11 to 12. You really can't start too early. Any discomfort during the act is categorically denied – by both men and women. On the contrary, due to its wider range of action, the palang is said to only increase the woman's pleasure – or so we've heard.

Back to the longhouses, as that's what this is really about. They live up to their name, sometimes reaching 250 meters in length. They are typically constructed from tree bark, bamboo, planks, and reeds. Without exception, they stand on stilts. This contributes to safety and keeps water and pests out. But the main reason is to avoid disturbing the spirits of the ground, because it is better not to get into trouble with them.

The main reason is to avoid disturbing the spirits of the ground, because it is better not to get into trouble with them

On closer inspection, longhouses are actually small villages where several families live together and share everything. They also form a strong social fabric, where the elderly and the weak receive the necessary care. The headman is in charge. He even acts as a judge.

 

Longhouse of the Murut with biliks (small rooms) and lansaran

We enter the interior of a rumah panjang, a longhouse of the Murut. The hills in the southwest of Sabah are their homeland. There, they engaged in dry rice farming, hunting with spears and blowpipes, and – yes indeed – headhunting.

 

Longhouse of the Murut – Covered veranda

Longhouses have an unchanging basic architecture. On one long side, there is a covered veranda where public life takes place; on the other side, a solid wall with small doors. Each door leads to a bilik – a small room for one family. The size of a longhouse is not measured in meters, but in the number of doors. This one has about ten.

The floor and the raised veranda are made of bamboo, the walls of tree bark, and the roof of thatch. Fire hazard is always a concern. A few large pots can hold communal supplies.

 

Victims of headhunting

Wooden hornbill

Somewhat unusual is the centrally placed lansaran, a kind of bamboo trampoline built into the floor. Above it hangs an impressive hornbill, carved out of wood, with a fiery red, curved horn on top of its yellow beak. It is the most revered bird among the Dayaks.

 

 

The museum itself turns out to be quite extensive, though it seems to lack the necessary resources to update its dated appearance.

We learn that Borneo lies just east of the famous Wallace Line, the imaginary dividing line between Asia and Oceania. As early as the 19th century, Alfred Russell Wallace – the great rival of Charles Darwin – had noted that to the west of that line, primarily Asian species were found, while Australian species such as marsupials and platypuses only occurred to the southeast of it.

This discovery provided a direct explanation for Wallace's observation

A century later, it was discovered that this line roughly corresponds to the boundary between two tectonic plates, providing an immediate explanation for Wallace’s observation. The sea is so deep there that the two areas were never connected by a land bridge, even during the last Ice Age when sea levels were 110 meters lower than they are today. As a result, the animal populations in the two regions never mixed.

Taxidermy displays are often dusty affairs, and Muzium Sabah is no exception. Still, it’s our only chance to get a glimpse of the Bornean rhinoceros, a critically endangered subspecies of the Sumatran rhinoceros, of which there are only about 40 individuals left.

Less rare, but equally hard to spot, are many other species showcased here – such as the greater coucal, the talking myna, the sun bear, the Borneo pygmy elephant, the mouse deer, and the southern red muntjac, also known as the barking deer.

The many hornbills, however, are a different story. In the rainforest, they will definitely make their presence known. We might even spot them later today in Gunung Mulu National Park in the province of Sarawak, where we’ll be heading in the afternoon.

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Thursday, April 7 | Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park

Last night, we finally completed the circle – we have landed back in Kota Kinabalu, the capital of Sabah, a week and a half after we left. This time, not in the city centre, but slightly south of the city, at Tanjung Anu, a stone’s throw from the international airport.

 

Door with hudo

Animistic sculpture

Door with hudo

Beautiful wooden sculptures adorn the gallery leading from the rooms to the lobby – doors, lintels, and shields from traditional longhouses. Animistic motifs set the tone. Just as Renaissance painters and sculptors glorified the Christian God, Bornean woodcarvers immortalized the myths of prevalent animism, according to the accompanying texts. Thus, a hudo representing a dragon motif was typically placed on a door. This was supposed to scare away evil spirits and protect the inhabitants of the longhouse.

This was supposed to scare away evil spirits and protect the inhabitants of the longhouse

In the lobby, they are busy preparing a massive floral arrangement with fresh flowers. The traditional kulintang sits idly for the moment. Later, when visitors arrive, this musical instrument will fill the lobby with the sounds of its eight gongs.

The newspaper reports that fire is ravaging the rainforest. It's not something you can extinguish quickly, as the fire continues to smoulder underground in the peat soil. Although it's about thirty kilometres away, a persistent smoke haze has gripped the city. Even the sun cannot prevent the Abdul Rahman archipelago islands from being reduced to vague silhouettes.

The SeaQuest boatmen have already taken their precautions and are wearing masks against the smoke. Around 10:30, we leave Sutera Harbour marina behind us. In two covered boats, we head towards Pulau Gaya, the largest of the five islands in the archipelago. Together, they form the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park – a collection of pristine rainforest, paradise beaches, and some stretches of coral reef. And all this just a stone's throw from Kota Kinabalu – rainforest and coral reef are indeed within easy reach of city dwellers here.

A thunderous concert of singing cicadas and birds greets us

And it turns out to be true. We need less than fifteen minutes to reach Base Camp, on the southern coast of Pulau Gaya. A green horseshoe of dense rainforest embraces the sunlit bay. A thunderous concert of singing cicadas and birds greets us as we stroll down the two hundred meter long wooden pier to the beach.

 

Padang Point – Pier

Clearly visible in the crystal-clear water are the many finger-sized holes in the pale sand, surrounded by a dark circle of sand grains. Crabs have been at work there.

In the vicinity of coral reefs, it’s common for a pistol shrimp and a goby to share one of these holes. At first glance, it seems like an odd couple, but both benefit from the relationship – a typical case of symbiosis. The shrimp is an excellent digger, a skill the goby lacks. On the other hand, the goby has excellent vision and can spot enemies much faster than the blind shrimp. So, they share the same hole, with the goby using it to mate and lay eggs as well.

Nothing is as it seems. The trunk of a coconut palm is not a trunk, the coconut crab is not a true crab

Another fascinating example of cooperation occurs at so-called cleaning stations around coral reefs. Cleaner wrasses, cleaner gobies, and even cleaner shrimp work to remove parasites and dead skin remnants from other fish or to clean skin wounds. Fish that want to be cleaned signal this with a special swimming motion. The cleaner fish then venture into open gill slits and even into the mouths of predatory fish. At a cleaning station, there is a kind of truce from which everyone benefits.

Coconut palms line the narrow beach. They thrive in sandy soil and are completely unaffected by salt. Fossil findings indicate that this has been the case for 40 to 50 million years. Where exactly they come from is still a matter of debate. Coconuts are resilient and can float long distances, allowing them to colonize tropical regions worldwide. Determining where the first coconut palm stood remains difficult.

Nothing is as it seems. The trunk of a coconut palm is not a trunk but a false trunk made of stacked leaf bases. And the coconut crab is not a true crab but a hermit crab that has adapted well to life on land. Its diet includes fruits and seeds, but also dead animal carcasses. It will even prey on small animals, such as baby turtles.

The coconut crab lives up to its nickname of coconut thief by swiftly climbing a coconut palm, cutting the stem of a coconut, and then removing the outer shell of the nut on the ground. It's all about the nutrient-rich core inside.

Hundreds of Japanese paratroopers fell prey to crocodiles

Cycas (m)

Mangrove forest

A hike of just under two kilometres will lead us through the hilly rainforest to Padang Point. But first, a cycas catches our attention. This living fossil, which was already present on Earth 200 million years ago, looks like a palm, but it is not a palm. Orange cones the size of a large baseball are hidden among the feathery leaves, indicating that it is a male one.

The tangle of aerial roots and arching roots, characteristic of red mangroves, is nearly impenetrable

A sturdy wooden walkway takes us through a mangrove forest. And that's a good thing, because otherwise, it would be impossible to pass through. The tangle of aerial roots and arching roots, characteristic of red mangroves, is nearly impenetrable. Add mud, quicksand, crocodiles, and snakes to the mix, and you get an almost inaccessible area. Japanese paratroopers during World War II experienced this firsthand, with hundreds falling prey to crocodiles.

 

Mangrove forest

An agama on a termite mound

Hats off to the daring builders of this comfortable boardwalk. Nevertheless, the value of mangrove forests is beyond doubt. Together with coral reefs, they break the waves and reduce damage during storms.

Treacherous tendrils of rattan hang low over the path

Treacherous tendrils of rattan hang low over the path. With their sharp thorns, they deter plant-eaters – and us as well. They also use these thorns to climb trees and plants, as their slender stems are too weak to support them on their own. They can grow hundreds of meters long by clinging to other plants.

 

Borneo anglehead lizard

A motionless agama sits on a pillar-shaped termite mound. Elsewhere, a Borneo anglehead agama clings to a tree trunk. You can find this agama only on Borneo. With its brown scales, it is barely distinguishable from the tree bark. On its back, it bears the long row of spines typical of iguana-like lizards.

 

Borneo anglehead lizard

Green crested lizard

Much more modest are the spines on the neck of the male green crested lizard. Like a playful harlequin, it wraps its long toes around a thin branch.

As we descend, we gradually make out the small Pulau Sapi, another island in the archipelago, so close it seems within reach. It is just before noon when we reach the pier at Padang Point. Some boats bob in the bay. Snorkelers are scanning the seabed, looking for colourful fish and coral.

Both SeaQuest boats are already waiting for us. Pulau Manukan is our next destination, the most popular of the five islands in the archipelago. A wide beach with a coral reef is its main attraction.

 

Trumpetfish

That doesn't go unnoticed upon arrival at the pier. All kinds of tropical fish glide effortlessly through the crystal-clear water – colourful parrotfish adorned in all the colours of the rainbow, yellow-green trumpetfish with a tubular body that can be several dozen centimetres long, striped sergeant major fish with scissor-shaped tails. And a creepy, salmon-pink jellyfish.

 

A water monitor flicks out its blue tongue

Fresh seafood is waiting for us on a bed of ice. A water monitor is lying in wait. It's one of the largest lizards, with a body that can grow up to 60 cm long – or one and a half meters if you include the tail. This water monitor doesn't shy away from human environments because there’s trash to scavenge. Probably it’s after table scraps. That’s much less tiring than chasing fish, rodents, birds, or snakes. And less dangerous, too, as it seems to have already lost part of a toe.

Occasionally, its blue, forked tongue flicks out of its mouth. This is its way of sensing the environment and detecting the scents in the air. That’s how it tracks down prey. Or a female during the breeding season.

 

To Kota Kinabalu

Snorkelling is now on the agenda, or a walk to Sunset Point. A light breeze has almost completely cleared the veils in the sky. Against the cloudless blue sky, the sea appears azure blue. That’s how it should be in a tropical setting.

 

Tanjung Anu

Pulau Sulug

Under gently swaying palm trees, we sip a Sabah Golden Sunset Cocktail on Tanjung Anu in the early evening, while the sun sets in a golden scene above Pulau Sulug, heading toward the horizon. For a moment, the delicate silhouette of a fishing boat breaks the bronze ripples in the sea. This paradise-like scene doesn't last forever. Like a coral-red coin, the sun inevitably disappears into the South China Sea.

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Jaak Palmans
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