The only place I’ve travelled in the world where a fruit stall doubles as a bus stop, is just outside the mountain town of Tanah Rata in Malaysia’s north.
The shadows of the dreary hostel entrance clung to me as I shuffled out. The town’s streets eerily silent while I walked towards the bus station. It wasn’t quite dawn.
After dhows through Halong Bay’s mist, beelines up the Mekong to northern Laos and business-like diving outings, the pleasure cruise to Railay Beach seemed odd.
The hardest thing to describe to someone new to scuba diving, is the overwhelming sense of freedom that you get once you’re done. And by done I mean post-course comfortable.
I had chosen the two day ride up-river for three reasons: It was cheap; its slow boat smacked of relaxation; and it would take me directly to Thailand.