I’m staying on an island hostel as part of a scuba diving
package, living on the island of Mabul, which is off the coast of a town called
Semporna. The hostel is called something super generic like Mabul Backpacker
Resort, and calling it a resort is a bit of a stretch, I woke up to a dog
sleeping beside me (that’s a plus in my book, but maybe not in the health code
book) but it’s much nicer a regular hostel. I think that’s a result of needing
to run a dive shop as well. Diving is a pretty strict affair.
It’s also is the only sports activity that requires journaling. At the end of every dive you’re supposed to write down your location, dive time, depth, things you saw etc etc. And your dive buddy signs off on it. Usually, you get a log book when you complete your PADI course, but I never did, because I Hermoine Granger’d the course and left the last class too early. My loss, but it seems to be a real faux pas to not have one. But then, here’s the thing, diving usually involves water, and paper doesn’t really like water all that much. I bought a dive log here to avoid the awkwardness, but its day two and what do ya know, my book is disintegrating. Weird standards. Maybe I’m doing something wrong, like not having a waterproof pack.
I wish I could properly describe what diving is like, but I
can’t.
I also wish I could show you what it’s like. But I feel like
any picture I take won’t stand up to the real thing, or pictures others have
taken. I feel like while on land, a picture might represent one’s own
experience, even if it’s something that everyone else has done, like the Grand
Canyon, meaning can still be derived from the context. Espesh if it’s a selfie.
But underwater photography seems more technical, more expensive, and more a set
of skills I don’t have yet. Go watch Blue Planet.
One dive site was the island of Sipadan, and I sort of planned
my whole trip around it. Only 120 people are allowed to dive each day, getting
a permit requires some planning. Sipadan is a protected island, monitored by
the Malaysia military. Part of their job is to protect the wildlife from
regular folk, and part of it is to protect regular folk from terrorists. There
was a hostage situation in 2000, where some pirates took hostages when a resort
was on the island. After that, the government was just like “eh, no more people
allowed here, save the fishes, annoy the terrorists, it’s a win win”.
I talked to a military guy on the island (Dunno if the
branch would be the marines like in the US). They have bunkers with machine
guns, carry assault rifles, and have a couple of black speed boats with things
that look like rocket launchers on them. He said they’re stationed here three
months at a time, and he trained the US marines a few weeks ago in survivalist
skills. He admired the dedication of the marines. He seemed about my age.
Although I’m staying at the most budget housing on the
island, the local people that live on the island live a lot more budget. They
look a little bit slummy, as much as I would hesitate to use that word. How
would you feel if someone called your house a slum?
Still it seems odd that I have so much, and they have so little. On the other hand, I have to leave, and they get to stay. I suppose my presence is also providing income, as many locals work for the hospitality system. And the company I’m with has a very extensive conservationist’s attitude. They pay locals a ton if they find turtle eggs so they can be protected. They have 2 full time conversationalists, doing education on things like shark finning, which is popular cuz we’re in Asia. It just seems strange that so much effort would be placed on protecting the animals but not helping the people.
But what am I gonna do? Am I gonna help these people? Do
they even need help? Maybe I’m just spoiled because it seems inconvenient to
live on stilts.
