Chilling at the Perhentian islands

The Perhentian Islands is a place off the northeastern coast of Malaysia where time forgets to move. Two dots of green in a turquoise sea, suspended somewhere between oblivion and brochure fantasy. It’s the kind of place that makes you question your return ticket. Or your life choices.

Getting here isn’t exactly a spa treatment. First, I hustled overland from Kuala Lumpur to the dodgy Kota Bharu, a place where the only thing colder than the beer is the welcome. Moving on to the scrappy port town of Kuala Besut, where I boarded a speedboat captained by a man who looked like he lost a bet. The ride? Equal parts scenic cruise and spinal adjustment, with just enough sea spray to salt your wounds.

But then I arrive.

Jetty at Besar island.

Epic palm trees and crystal clear water frames a picture so perfect it looks like a computer rendering. Every direction I look remind me of a desktop wallpaper. The water is stupidly clear, like someone turned the saturation dial to eleven.

The Perhentian consists of two main islands. The smaller is called Kecil and this is where the backpacker scene is going strong. The larger island, Besar, is more quiet but there are plenty of postcard beaches and dense jungle forests to explore.

Hanging around.

I soon get restless and head off into the jungle. The walk is long and full of monkeys, but after encountering a green snake and sneaky monitor lizards, I feel like I’ve had enough of nature.

The seaside village Taluk Dalan appears like a mirage from nowhere. My sweaty appearance make the locals scan me with suspicion. It feels like discovering The Others in the TV series “Lost”.

“Even the jungle wanted him dead, and that’s who he really took his orders from anyway.”
— Willard, Apocalypse Now (1979)

Finding a shortcut through the jungle.

At nightfall, I take a boat to the long beach at Kecil. Fire dancers spin in the dark, their trails slicing through the humid air as well as my retinal print. I sit in the sand under the full moon, sipping on a monkey juice. Nobody seems to care what day it is.

Beach night at Kecil.

The islands used to be a crossroad for traders between Bangkok and Malaysia, but these days they are well off the tourist trail. I’m glad that The Beach wasn’t filmed here. Despite a growing number of tourists the islands still feels relatively untouched.

Arrival at this magical place is earned through sweat, heatstroke and enough mosquito bites to make my limbs look like a relief map of Southeast Asia. It will hopefully take a very long time before the onslaught of mass transit comes to claim these islands and turn them into Phuket 2.0. Until then, I’ll have another monkey juice and enjoy the ride.