Return to Palau Kapas

Ahhhh, it's a four day-weekend, we managed to beat the traffic out of the city and were back on the quiet island of Kapas. Slipping into our bikinis and sipping on our first cocktail held only a brief moment of satisfaction as we watched overcrowded boats pull up on shore and human chains form to unload enough gear for a small army to set up camp. The little slice of heaven was about to be inundated with big, big groups ready to 'connect' with the outdoors...and we were unknowingly set up in the centre of shanty town.

As our group had previously joked that we had brought enough bbq-ables, snacks and beach games to survive a post-apocalyptic camp, we didn't realize that we were in for a weekend of real community living, that at times felt a little chaotic. When we travel we hope to experience and understand a variety of cultures. Aspects that tend to be easily experienced and highlighted when jumping into a new culture are religion, language, dress, food, etc. As one would hope and suspect, after spending an extended amount of time within a culture, the experiences and understandings would run deeper. As we experienced first-hand this past weekend, everyone does camping differently.

Camping crew- Minus photographer Ellie, and Kenny.

Who wouldn't want to camp in paradise?!

So within our groups' home countries (Canada, Australia, England, Spain, Switzerland and New Zealand) we have similar camping styles....You know the kind of camping where you lounge, swim, snack, throw a ball around, go for a stroll, have a bon fire, play cards kinda deal. For our local neighbors, there was certainly some of that going on, but so so much more. As there was a major over-population problem (due to the lack of planning and suspected greed on the part of the
campground owners) we, with little choice straddled the line between Malay/Western camping. I'd like to reflect that I always enjoy when we visit a beach and the local community is there appreciating it too. Sometimes we have visited beaches where the only beach-goers are foreign tourists, and the locals are walking up and down selling merchandise or services. It would be like Canadians running the chairlift but never getting to ski. It's nice to have the opportunity to appreciate what's in your own backyard!

First of all, no one sleeps. As our five tents called it a night there were constant groups of children and adults wandering around our tent chatting, crying, having a refreshing drink, playing tag. As it was so hot and the windows had to be open to our tent (apologies to all who saw us sweating in our skivvies...but you should've been asleep!), I opened my eyes on more than one occasion to someone just having a swat and a think outside our tent door. No personal boundaries, no segregated campsites, no sleep. Secondly, no one goes dirty. Amazingly, within twenty minutes of the groups arriving, there were mothers doing laundry, scrubbing the concrete in the cooking area and showering; everyone showers ALL the TIME. Tyler noted a man in the men's shower, fully clothed, marching back and forth under several shower heads. In general, the camp was a hive of activity... although we chose to spend the day finding different areas and positions to sleep in the shade. To each their own.

So how did we fair in the face of diversity? I would say pretty well (and our neighbors as well need to be thanked for their tolerance of us)! Again the simple differences in our approaches to camping seemed to create a natural berth from our neighbors, in an otherwise very crowded situation. Keeping to ourselves and smiling seemed to be a great tactic, however our camping practices were just very different;

Camping/beach attire: As little a possible
Camping beverages: Beer
Camping breakfast: Bacon
Camping entertainment: Gambling/poker
Camping sleeping arrangements: Co-ed
.....there's nothing halal about that.

The next morning, as Hutchy would look up from his book and declare that we were on the beaches of Normandy- the boatloads just kept coming....until a hush fell over the camp as the generator finally quit. It was like that moment in Dr. Seuss' The Lorax when the last trufflula tree was chopped. And just like that all the Whos down in Who-Camp packed their Who-tents and headed back to their Who-lives. Literally, as quick as they came, they had left. Turns out all that laundry, excessive personal hygiene and frolicking in the fresh well-water was, although annoying, our blessing in disguise. The generator that had been working tirelessly to pump ample water had quit. And there in lies the last of the stark differences when camping; we needed very  little fresh water (a large tub of rain water sufficed for the next 3 days).

So we happily remained on the little piece of paradise for the rest of the weekend, marveling at its beauty, peacefulness and lack of activity. We feasted on BBQ buffets, lost game after game of poker to Kenny, snorkeled everywhere, played badminton, dealt with persistent mosquitoes and generally loved life.