Tag Archives: Letters

Letters from Tioman – Diving 2

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July] 

A continuation from Diving 1


When we come up all of us are chatty, especially dad and the mat

sallehs.

It is lunch time, we are given a little box consisting of a sandwich,

apple, boiled egg and a tiny piece of cake. The older mat salleh

who started off the conversation with “So I heard you talking about

Sipadan just now, old timer” is now merrily recounting his

experience at some diving haven called Truc near the Polynesian

Islands, where if one liked wreck diving, boasted of 40 sunken

wartime ships there for your pleasure.

 

I like the fact that at the very start of the excursion everyone probably

thought that my good ol dad, a little big round the middle, was probably

more suited to a lazyboy than a dive trip. Now however, he is in

the centre of some serious dive talk.

Underwater deaths, the bends,

dangers of wreck diving, the quality of dive equipment,

overconfident divers and an assortment of interesting dive stories

leave me and the younger lad wide-eyed and appreciative.

Yeah, never understood the rush to get masters licences and all 

without getting the dives in first.

 

Pix from http://www.malaysia-islands.com

Malang Rocks (Pix from http://www.malaysia-islands.com)

 

 

During the second dive and the rather pretty Malang Rocks, and

about 12 metres down (and going lower) I see that my mask is

filling up with water. Dang you mask! Okay, it’s mask clearing time,

and I tap Francis’ shoulder nearby, just in case I screw up.

I don’t panic underwater 

but I really do hate clearing masks. My eyes!

Somehow when I know I’m supposed to blow air from my nose to

clear the mask I blow more air from mouth (so they tell me) and I

hold the mask wrong and more often than not I take

3 takes to clear the damn thing.

Anyhow at this time I accomplish it fairly quickly

(shame factor), it’s done, and we go on our way.

We do quite a bit of going under rocks/cave-ish spots and luckily I

don’t bump my tank or head – though I get a scratch or two on my

thigh after all our dives. Dad is fine and well happy.

 

When we come up and proceed to head off it rains again, and it’s no

small-fry rain.

It pours like it had been holding out for us all this time.

 

I can’t describe how beautiful it is, and how awesome at the same

time.

No picture will justify it. All I can do is stare, not a word leaves

my lips for a long time.

We get towels from the crew to wrap up, but it is cold. All round us

is the rain hitting the sea, looking like a million diamond droplets

hovering just an inch above the water. The grey clouds, threatening,

but not alarmingly so, are spread evenly everywhere you look. The

wind howls and soon we see nothing but the rain’s mist all around

our little boat. It is such an amazing thing.

It seems to take forever to get back to land, and at one point the rain

gets so heavy everyone at the front takes shelter (and wrapped with

extra towels) at the back, all drenched and shivering. Francis laughs

at me because I guess I seem thoroughly happy by the experience.

The roaring rain and the sea, how more close to nature can one

get? (Wait don’t answer :p)

As we finally get to the jetty and make our way (run) to the dive

centre, I reflect on how relaxed I feel,

and how glad I am to see my old man so content and pleased with

the day’s proceedings.

“It went very well, I feel so relaxed,” he said, adding that he hoped

for a few more dives in the future before he revisited Sipadan.

I understand why now dad always wanted me to dive with him, and I

will continue to dive with him for as long as he can.

 

“]Around Malang Rocks [Pix from http://www.malaysia-islands.com]

Around Malang Rocks [Pix from http://www.malaysia-islands.com

 

 

He may never get to dive with his grandchildren, but I guess it will be

enough for me to teach my kids in the future, and make this a family

tradition. Hopefully my brothers (hint, hint) will also eventually join

us on these dive trips.

And for as long as it stays this way, Tioman island will be one

place we will come back again and again as the place my family got

our sunburns, dive education and where my dad said proudly “Yes

that is my girl, and she dives too.”

 

Highly recommended for soppy folks like moi, if you can’t already tell.

xo

Letters from Tioman – Diving 1

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July] 

[Continuation from Diving with Daddy]


I shout for dad, and mom says he is already out, looking for food.

Surprise, surprise.

When he comes back (with nasi lemak and some noodles) I ask if

the rain is going to be a problem. It looks like it will rain all day, I say.

“Bah humbug”, says dad. (Or well, he says something to that

effect anyway) Rain is nothing, and will clear by the time we reach

the dive spots, he says.

As I will not argue with a diving and Tioman seasoner, we make

our way with umbrellas to the dive centre, which is about

10 minutes walk away.

As we approach I see that the dive staff and our group (consisting

of 7 people, excluding Francis) are ready to go.

So we have a quick dive briefing about our trip to Chebeh Island and

the Malang Rocks, check out equipment and head to the jetty.

 

Old picture in Tioman - Don't laugh leh

Old picture in Tioman - Don't laugh leh

 

The rain, not too heavy but not light too, continues.

It is about 40 minutes to Chebeh Island. In the group there is me

and dad, two older mat salleh dudes (who don’t know each other

but with their experience, becomes each other’s dive buddies,

one English boy who can’t be more than 19, who will buddy with

Francis, and a Chinese couple who seems to be just beginning

and will be led by another dive master.

Dad is all excited and super chatty, and he immediately launches

into spirited talk with the younger Mat Salleh about diving in Sipadan,

the barracudas etc, the history (wah lau?) of Tioman’s corals

(Used to be good, then shite, then now growing better again).

 

He also excitedly points out that I am his daughter, and that I dive too.

I play the part of the dutiful daughter, smiling and acknowledging

his pride, enjoying the ocean’s spray and the rain on my face.

We arrive at Chebeh, and true enough, the rain has abated, though

the sun is refusing to make an appearance.

No matter, it’s time to dive.

As we all huddle at the back to put on our gear, dad seems to make

a little fuss around me – do this, check that, make sure this,

tighten that – but I do not mind.

The other Mat Salleh smiles and says “Your daughter eh? I’m like

that with my sons as well. Always listen to dad!”, much to the

entire group’s amusement.

I reply with “Yes, I listen to daddy, he has been diving forever,”

with a big smile.

And then we all go down, the pair of MatSals on their own, the

beginners, and then us four.

 

 

Underwater at Chebeh - Pix from www.malaysia-islands.com

Underwater at Chebeh - Pix from www.malaysia-islands.com

 

It is a thrill, as usual!

At first I wonder why dad keeps on disappearing from my sight but

then I realise he is right behind me, content to watch out from me

from the back. And so I follow Francis’ lead and take in the

underwater scenery. I realise how much I miss the serenity of diving.

 

 

To be continued… More of Letters from Tioman (just two more left)

Letters from Tioman – Diving with Daddy

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July] 


Dad and I did our check dive yesterday. To our utter disappointment,

we find out that Richard, his good friend and my diving ‘guru’,

has moved to the mainland.

We make a guess that it is because his young son

has grown quite a bit and needs proper schooling and thus Richard

and his wife Dot decided to make a move from their home of so many

years.

I don’t think I’ll ever see the Berjaya Dive Centre the same way again.

 

But some of the staff there remember Dad and call him Old Timer,

one being Francis, who would be the one to do our check dives with us

and also dive with us today. Dad has dived so many times he doesn’t

bring his dive card or equipment or anything, and I (being the useless

numbskull that I am) also am card-less, and logbook-less. “But

I got my licence here itself in 2001,” I tell Francis, and Dad adds: “Yes, and with

Richard!”

We get the knowing looks and nods, fill in the necessary

forms and voila – it’s an all-clear,

we can dive as long as we pass the check dive – which is a less elaborate

version of the Refresher course, necessary when one has not been diving

for a while.

My last dive was in 2007, which I am not very worried about.

But dad, who has been through a number of serious operations over

the years, is a bit fragile.

If it was up to mom, he wouldn’t be diving at all. But we both

convinced her that he is never as joyful, relaxed and happy than

when he is diving, and the green light is obtained.

After the obligatory mask clearing exercise and having a lil dive

between the centre and Renggis Island etc …

the results are in. Two thumbs up for me and dad for diving.

That was yesterday. Today, we wake up to rain. Dark clouds.

It doesn’t look good.

As dad has to fly off on Monday evening and can only dive today

(for the nitrogen etc to clear from the body), I peer from my blanket

in the early morning and wonder if it will happen – my first diving

excursion with dad, long overdue.

 

Stormy weather?

Stormy weather?

Letters from Tioman – Running with Momma

From Tioman, the ‘diving with dad’ trip  [3rd to 8th July]

 

I don’t know if the feeling in me is one of pride or disbelief or utter

amusement, or indeed all of them, all in one.

My 61-year-old mother is with me in the hotel gym, on the threadmill

next to mine, going toe-to-toe with me in a mixture of speed walking

and running.

I am quite aware of her physical health, as she has always been one

of the healthier ones in the family, but this is the first time we are in

the gymnasium together (one which faces the beach – interesting exercise

entertainment), and I get a rush out of passers-by staring at us.

 

In my head I can’t help but think “Yeah bitches, she is in her sixties,

don’t play”.

She doesn’t go as fast as me but with just about two notches below my

walking and running level, and handling it very well indeed, I smile.

I start to think that I probably will not need to worry about her as

she grows older, as she is now worrying about her father, my grandpa,

in his old age.

 

Random pix of dad peering into old family house in Batu Pahat

Random pix of dad peering into old family house in Batu Pahat

 

During the next few days in Tioman I would also

come to realise this Run-With-Mom thing was no one-off. Every time I

wanted to hit the gym, she followed too.

I always think about whether my dad feels the need to match

(or at least) better his fitness, I hope so, of course. (I also nag so, much

to his annoyance)

My brothers are in the pink of health, both being former young athletes,

and mother and I are well versed in the need for exercise and healthy

eating. (Or at least we try).

Part of why I quit smoking this year was the influence from within

my family, actually.

I wonder what it’ll be like in the future, and hope to inspire the same

confidence in my children – that I am fine, that I am taking care of my

health, and that I’ll do my best, that

I can say “just worry about your own health, kids”.

It is a fine gift, I reckon.

Now, if I could only just handle that one last vice …

 

 

Btw, here’s a link if you want a teeny tiny reality check on your

health, it’s an 11-question Newsweek quiz on health.

I didn’t get an A plus, hmmph, but was reminded to do

an annual health check soon to update all that important information.

It’s not supposed to scare me, but damn it, trips to the doctor’s

for annual health checks get scarier by the year.

Bah humbug.

I want whatever Tun M & Lee Kuan Yew are taking.

 

 

 

[Sorry, not many pictures taken in tioman, or of sweating self in

gym (yeuxx) so LOL pictures from the brilliant Lolcats, will have to do :)

 

ok this one's a pup. loldogs! xo

ok this one's a pup. loldogs! xo

 

 

[More from Letters from Tioman to be continued ... ]

Letters from Tioman – Hello Again Dear Island

It was how it always is – Tioman, the earliest island I remember and the only

island I claim for my family and I.

For this is the island where I got my first sunburnt as a child,

it was where my first memories of building sandcastles

with my little brother are hosted.

 

And so again I arrive with my parents at the island we will always somehow love,

despite its warts and all, and we stay at a resort that may just as well be our family home -

Berjaya Resort.

Dad tells me he came here even before it was known as Berjaya,

he was out here diving even when the hotel was known as Merlin.

 

I think I have been here for at least once in every two or three years, not

necessarily in Berjaya. I’ve lived in Tekek and Salang too.

I learned how to dive here, with dad’s friend Richard. I continue

to dive here, and am able to truly unwind here for it is an island catered mostly

for sun-worshipping families and more relaxed divers, you rarely see groups

of youths or the hipster crowds getting their drunken freak-on here.

 

For someone who has been diving in so many different dive spots in

and out of the country, dad had always seemed to prefer Tioman,

much to my surprise.

After this trip though I guess I finally understood why.

You always love your first island

You always love your first island

 

[More letters to come from tioman ... ]