Tarzan makes it look easy.

So, I'm back with a few mosquito bites here and there. Plenty of abrasions. Definitely raw from the myriad of rushed activities over the last 7 days in Brunei. To say I wasn't mentally prepared would be wrong, to say the least.

Where do I begin? Stayed in a wood house, next to dead insects and a lot of live ones. Next morning, we learnt how to cross a river using a few pulleys, swimming with the current. Bearing in mind that we hadn't packed or decided what to pack at all, we were told we set off for the jungle that afternoon. Thus, began a scramble for food rations, water filters, bags, sleeping bags and other equipment, some of which didn't even get used throughout the trip. Lack of planning lead to indecisiveness and bad decisions. With every action comes a consequence.

Jungle climbing was seemingly endless. More like, uphill climbing and following a compass. I used the same piece of uniform from 4pm Tuesday to Saturday 9am not including sleeping. You do the math. Roughly about 50 hours. Trust me, I smelt lovely. Camping was definitely a new experience. We arrived at our first campsite at 6pm. Pitched tents swiftly and at around 630pm, it was all dark. Like dark. It was at this point, I asked myself what was I doing in a jungle far from home. Sweaty. Dirty. Tired. Hungry. Cold. Unable to see in front. I felt hopeless, aimless and lost.

So the next day, we tarried on, more uphills, more navigation, through the jungle. It seems never-ending, until there was this sound of rushing water. It drove me insane, it meant we were on track. We got to the river, and realized that the Troylean Traverse equipment used to cross the river was there. So we spent three hours, getting everyone wet, the bags wet and getting everything across. With just 4 hours of sunshine left, we hiked quickly to our campsite for the night Motong 3, thinking it would be like our first campsite rather mundane and simple. Little did we expect that the other group camped at Motong 3 too. AND there was a RIVER to bathe in. Super morale-boost (although next morning I didn't want to put my long four back on).

To cut a long story short, jungle trekking was like sand that rubbed off the outer exteriors of ones self, exposing what was left inside. It revealed mixed emotions, selflessness and selfishness, hopelessness and hopefulness, discord, disdain, anger. It was managable.

After the trek, we got back to the wood houses and it felt like heaven. Until 4pm that evening when we packed and left for a night alone in the jungle to pitch our own shelters. It was a very.. insightful night. I guess, I restablished a few things about myself, my family, friends, my passions, my paths. The rest of the trip was kayaking and a 10km run so no worries about that either.

So thus ends my jungle, it doesn't sound as horrid here, but I'm just being lazy. But given the chance, I'd do it again. Just not anytime soon. My legs ache, and I itch all over. December calls! (: 23rd dec I'm coming to get you!

love,
xiong weighing in at a new 75kg!